


The Stars Are Fire

by CupcakeCute



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Anidala, Childhood Friends, Darth Vader Redemption, Delegation of 2000, Drama & Romance, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Flashbacks, Japor Snippet, Minor Character Death, POV Alternating, POV Third Person Limited, Suitless Vader, Vaderdala - Freeform, Varykino
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-04-29 11:04:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 49,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14471304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupcakeCute/pseuds/CupcakeCute
Summary: Anakin Skywalker vanished during the Battle of Naboo. Eleven years later, a fledgling Empire reigns. As Senator Padmé Amidala struggles to warn the galaxy of a terrible evil, Darth Vader learns that long-harbored feelings are impossible to fight, and they’re swept into a journey that will determine not only the fate of the galaxy, but who it is they truly are.





	1. Stardust

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! A quick note on the timeline. It's been eleven years since the events of The Phantom Menace, seven years since Padmé finished one term as Queen and became a Senator, and four years since the Republic fell, the Jedi were destroyed, and the Empire formed. Many of the blanks will be filled in as we go :)  
> Any dialogue or text from the Star Wars Saga included in this fic is not of my own invention.

**Opening Crawl**

_It's been eleven years since the Battle of Naboo. The Trade Federation was defeated and young Anakin Skywalker vanished without a trace. In the time since, darkness has fallen over the galaxy. The Republic collapsed and the Empire rose, ruled by the cruel Emperor Palpatine and enforced by his mysterious apprentice Darth Vader. Assisted by Galen Erso, the Delegation of Two Thousand learned of evil plans that, if exposed, could crumble the fledgling Empire from the inside out. Pursued by Imperial forces, Senator Padmé Amidala and her guard attempt to deliver the information to their allies to defeat the Emperor and bring peace and justice back to the galaxy._

**Chapter 1**

**Stardust**

One percent. Two percent. Three percent. Four—

And stalling.

Padmé Amidala's heart thudded in her chest, her ears, and her throat as she watched the upload bar move slowly in preparation for transmission of the most sensitive information in the galaxy.

 _Information that could doom or save us all,_ she thought.

It had been no easy task getting the plans from Scarif, even with science officer Galen Erso's covert assistance. The Delegation's guise of a diplomatic mission to the Citadel had fallen through quickly, and they had lost many in the escape.

Senator Fang Zar had been within inches of his shuttle on the beach when he was hit with a blaster bolt and gone in an instant. Padmé had seen the life leave his eyes. She swallowed at the memory.

Her throat still hurt from screaming for him and the others who lay dead on the sand. They had left so many bodies behind.

She could still hear Captain Typho's shouts of, " _Run, milady_!  _Run_!" as they fled, the Emperor's death troopers on their backs all the way. All for the information held on the disk that was slowly loading in the terminal. All for Project Stardust.

"Named for my infant daughter," Galen had explained. _"_ Jyn."

An innocent name for such a terrible thing.

The fate of the galaxy depended on that data disk. Exposure of the Emperor's most insidious plan could mean everything to the Delegation, and the small Rebellion they'd helped to build.

Hands shaking, Padmé touched the japor snippet hanging from her throat for luck.

 _It will bring you good fortune,_ her long-lost friend has said so many years ago.

She needed good fortune.

_The galaxy needs it, too._

And good fortune willing, the information Padmé was preparing to send to Senator Bail Organa and the other leaders of the Delegation of Two Thousand would be enough to bring about the end of the Empire. Surely once the Imperial Senate learned what the Emperor was planning to build…

 _The Senate gave Palpatine his emergency powers. It allowed for the Empire to form,_ Padmé reminded herself, but she had to hope they would rise up and reject it once they knew the truth.

"May the Force be with us," Bail was prone to saying.

The Force, good fortune, maybe it was all the same. Thus far, her fortune had proved far from favorable.

Imperial forces were in pursuit of her Star Skiff.

Padmé swallowed convulsively.

She had heard too many of her men screaming as they died before the Star Skiff had blasted into lightspeed out of the hangar of a Rebel ship.

"It's too late, milady," Captain Typho had said when he saw Padmé's face, white with shock. "There's nothing we can do for them now."

But their screams for help and mercy had echoed in her mind, haunting her even after they'd made their way to the Mid-Rim. Those who had survived were too shaken to say the name of their attacker.

But Padmé knew who it had been. It was a name whispered in the halls of the Senate, and mentioned fearfully in the reports on her desk. A name that was entrusted with the Emperor's most clandestine plots and brutal actions. A name without a face.

_Darth Vader._

With a  _bang_ that sent the lights flickering and warning sirens blaring, the Star Skiff shook violently. It knocked Padmé off of her feet. She landed hard against the computer terminal, the metal edge of it digging into her side.

Wincing, she stood, her ribs and hip throbbing from the impact, and reached for her blaster. Her eyes darted to the upload, heart threatening to leap from her throat.

_Please._

She exhaled as it gave a steady beep and made it to fifty percent. Still in progress.

The door opened and Captain Typho ran inside. From the hall, Padmé could hear panicked, frantic footsteps and shouts.

"Milady!" Captain Typho called, halting at her side and stopping just short of reaching for her. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Padmé said. "What happened? Are we hit?"

Captain Typho clenched his jaw.

Padmé's eyes grew wider. "Damaged?"

Typho shook his head and swallowed. "We are being boarded, milady. They've caught us. The ones who…"

Typho couldn't finish.

"There isn't much time," he said.

Fear seized her so suddenly that Padmé's breath hitched. She turned back to her upload, renewed determination gripping her chest.

"Milady? Are you sure you're—?"

"Ready the escape pods," Padmé said. "Get everyone ready to hold them off for as long as we can, but if we're overwhelmed they must use the time we have left to escape. I won't lose anyone else today, Captain."

Typho shook his head. "Milady, what about you? We must get you to a pod before the Empire—"

" _No,_ " Padmé said sharply and caught herself. "No. Captain, I have to finish the transmission and destroy the data link before they can trace it back to the Delegation."

"No, milady, we cannot leave you here to—"

"You can, and you will if it comes to it."

The ship shook again and the communications room fell dark but for the red glow of the upload screen. Typho looked to Padmé for orders.

"Hurry!" she said.

"Yes, milady," Typho said and sprinted from the room, shutting the door behind him.

Padmé tucked the japor snippet back beneath the high neck of her top.

It was children like Anakin she was fighting for, slaves like Anakin and Shmi. Those most subjugated under the Empire's rule had already been left behind by the Republic in its final years and were more oppressed than ever before. At least in the Republic, slavery had been illegal in law if not in practice. Now military camps were filled to bursting, their prisoners sent to occupied planets to mine kyber and metals for the Empire.

_All for the terror he's attempting to build._

Alone, the darkness closed in on her. Padmé could hear only muffled shouts, her own shallow breathing, and the slow beep of the upload bar. Ninety percent.

 _Please…_ she thought.  _Please._

The Star Skiff's emergency sirens wailed even louder overhead.

Padmé's mind raced nearly as fast as her breathing. If the Imperial troops made it through before the upload, she would need to abort the transmission. If she did, she'd have to recover the data disk as quickly as possible, conceal it somehow, and then…then what?

_I pray I don't have to find out._

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Padmé exhaled. The transmission was in its final stages. All that was left was to—

The door behind her burst open in a flurry of white armor and smoke.

"There she is! Set to stun!"

There was no time to think. Padmé's hand slammed down on the abort button, cutting the transmission short and leaving the Delegates on the receiving end safe and anonymous. The data disk popped free of the communications hub, and Padmé's fist closed around it just as three stunning blasts hit her back.

* * *

"Hey."

Padmé furrowed her brow and turned her head away from the offending noise.

"Hey!"

This time, the sound came with a sharp prod to her ribs. She blinked to find cold, white light filling her vision and shut her eyes against it with a groan.

"That's it," the same voice said, dull as if spoken from behind a mask. "Rise and shine."

Padmé forced her eyes to open and found herself unexpectedly upright. Strong, merciless hands gripped her upper arms. Stormtroopers on either side of her were holding her tight.

She froze and took in her surroundings. She was in the cavernous docking bay of an Imperial Venator-class Star Destroyer. Where were her men?

An older Imperial officer with a neat grey mustache marched her way, flanked by his own troopers.

"Admiral Ketti," a stormtrooper said. "We've apprehended a senator from the Delegation."

"Excellent," the officer answered. "Do you have the plans?"

"Here, sir." The stormtrooper to Padmé's left held out the small disk.

Before she could stop herself, Padmé stepped forward to grab it. The stormtroopers yanked her back before she could gain an inch.

Admiral Ketti smirked and pocketed the data disk. "Milady, surely you didn't believe it would be so easy to reclaim?"

Padmé narrowed her eyes at him and spoke as calmly as she could, "Not so easy, Admiral, but perhaps not so difficult either."

A vein pulsed in Ketti's forehead. "Your reputation precedes you, Senator Amidala, and now we finally meet. I've heard so very much about you."

"All good things, I hope."

"All exceedingly interesting, I'll grant you that," Admiral Ketti said, still giving her that cruel almost-smile. "Queen of Naboo at the age of fourteen and frequently found at the capitol arguing for Republic interference in the Hutt-controlled systems of the Outer Rim, with little success. Left your reign after a single term, against popular demand, for a seat in the Senate to continue your fruitless endeavor. Opposed the Military Creation act that began the Clone Wars. Member of the Delegation of Two Thousand. Opposed to the formation of the Galactic Empire. And, apparently, Rebel scum, a thief of Imperial property, and a traitor to the galaxy. Does that quite sum it up?"

"Judging by your assessment, Admiral, you and I possess different standards of what constitutes treachery to the galaxy."

Admiral Ketti only shook his head, as if amused, but Padmé saw the tic go in his forehead. "It is brave of you, milady, to speak this way with me. I will remind you that this is not a hearing, senator, it is not a debate. It is treason. Cheek will do you no good with Lord Vader."

Icy fear trickled down Padmé's spine and Admiral Ketti grinned.

He addressed the troopers. "Keep her in line. Follow me."

He turned on his heel and began to march away. The stormtroopers holding her started to follow, but Padmé stayed defiantly still.

"Move it along," one trooper said, his grip tightening on her arm. Padmé took a step. "That's it, keep moving."

She craned her neck over her shoulder as they went. There, behind a row of Imperial fighters, was her Star Skiff.

The chrome plating had taken a few blasts in the fight, and the damage was worse than she'd been expecting, but several escape pods were gone. Padmé's shoulders sagged in relief. There had been escapees. Others were not so lucky and stood in a crowd surrounded by more stormtroopers, their hands behind their heads. Typho was among them. His eye widened in horror when he saw her and he took a step, but was jerked back by a trooper.

Padmé held his gaze for as long as she could, until the stormtroopers shoved her into an elevator and the doors snapped shut.

"Don't get any ideas," a trooper said as they began moving, giving her a jab that was sure to leave a bruise. "You do, and you're dead."

They marched her after Admiral Ketti down another hallway, this one narrow and darkly lit. Their footsteps echoed hollowly from the grates they walked upon, like drums for a Gungan execution. Padmé was almost startled by the openness when the ship's bridge bloomed at the end of the hall before them.

Imperial officers sat in sunken pits on either side of the bridge's main walkway, chattering away into headsets and pressing buttons on the controls. Admiral Ketti hung back among them for a long moment, as if to inspect, but Padmé saw him swallow nervously before he began walking the last stretch of the bridge.

A tall figure stood waiting for them, staring out of massive windows at the empty vacuum of space, his hands clasped behind his back. He was hooded and gloved and there was no way to distinguish his features in the shadowy reflection on the glass. Faceless and terrifying, there was only one person it could be. The man who had slaughtered Padmé's men above Scarif, the man who conducted countless atrocities in the Outer Rim in the Empire's name, the man who was responsible for the destruction of the Jedi.

_Vader._


	2. Asphyxia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Happy Star Wars Day everyone! May the fourth be with you ;)

**Chapter 2**

**Asphyxia**

Padmé fought the mad urge to run.

"Lord Vader," Admiral Ketti said. "We have captured a Delegation member who fled Scarif."

"Very good, Admiral." Vader spoke quietly and did not turn. "And the project?"

Admiral Ketti puffed up, a smug smile on his lips. "Retrieved."

"Don't sound so proud of this small victory, Admiral," Vader said. "Those plans were stolen in more than an act of defiance. The Emperor suspects that the Delegation has created a network for the Rebels and they were trying to transmit the project to their leaders. Who were they trying to contact?"

"We, uh, well that's to say, ahem." Admiral Ketti paused, "We don't know, my lord. The senator aborted the transmission before we could establish a trace."

Darth Vader turned and Admiral Ketti shrank back, his eyes to the floor. Padmé drew herself up and forced herself to look at him. She would not cower before Vader any more than she would before Palpatine.

 _I'm not afraid,_ Padmé thought with surprising conviction.

Her confidence melted to shock as yellow eyes settled on hers. Vader's grew a fraction wider and Padmé knew hers must have done the same.

He was too young _._

The second most monstrous man in the galaxy was her own age at the most, likely a few years her junior. His skin was smooth, his lips full, and his face lineless except for a thin scar that cut through his eyebrow. If someone had given her Vader's list of crimes and told her the man standing before her had lived long enough to commit them all, Padmé wouldn't have believed them, but for the frightening confidence in his eyes that could only come with power and the look of hatred etched on every absurdly youthful feature.

The result was horrifying.

It was no wonder Palpatine kept him away from Coruscant.

And there was something else.

 _Something about him…_  Padmé frowned, trying to puzzle out what it was.

He was staring at her like she was—

Padmé did not know what to make of that stare, but it made her very, very uneasy.

"This is the senator?" Vader asked, wrenching his awful, yellow eyes away from Padmé.

She felt as if she could finally breathe again.

"Yes," Admiral Ketti said. "Senator Amidala of the Naboo."

Vader held out his hand and Admiral Ketti seemed flustered for a moment before reaching for the plans in his pocket. He handed the disk over to Vader, who examined it and tucked it away into his cloak.

"The Emperor will be pleased," Vader said.

Admiral Ketti puffed himself up. "Will you speak to him, Lord Vader? Inform him of my success?"

Padmé couldn't stomach any more. "What success, Admiral? All that your actions today have proven is that you care more for your own accomplishments than the galaxy you profess to serve. You would enable the atrocity in those plans to further your own goals and furthermore—"

"Be quiet!" Admiral Ketti struck Padmé across the face with the back of his hand. Her hand flew up to cover the stinging spot and she gasped. "You are an Imperial prisoner and will not speak to me as if—auergh!"

Admiral Ketti's eyes bugged out and his hands scrambled at his throat. He choked as if he couldn't draw breath. Padmé's gaze flew to Vader, who was watching Ketti with cold fury in his eyes, his arm extended, hand clenched into a near fist. He trembled slightly, betraying inner rage.

Padmé clutched her cheek and watched in horror as Ketti struggled to breathe.

"My lord—" Ketti wheezed. "Please—"

Vader only glared from beneath a furrowed brow.

"Let him go," Padmé whispered, trying to keep her voice even. She spoke up. "Lord Vader, let him go."

Vader went on as if he had not heard her. Ketti's movements grew weak.

Padmé spoke louder, as if to the senate floor. "Release him!"

Vader released his grip. Ketti tried to choke in one last rattling breath, but it was too late. He crumbled to the floor at Padmé's feet, unmistakably dead.

She closed her eyes with a gasp and swallowed thickly.

Two stormtroopers hurried over and dragged the body away.

"Commander Ricon," Vader said.

An officer from the pit hurried forward.

"Yes, my Lord," he said.

"Intercept any Delegation ships you find and trace their recent transmissions," Vader said. "They still may be of use to us in finding the Rebel network."

Ricon bowed again. "Yes, my Lord."

"Don't fail me," Vader said, raising a finger in warning, "Admiral."

Ricon shuddered. "Yes, my Lord…My Lord?"

Vader raised his eyebrows. "What is it, Admiral?"

"The senator?" Ricon asked. "What's to be done with her?"

Vader looked past her as if she weren't there. Padmé didn't know whether to feel grateful or not.

"My master has ordered for the senator's interrogation," Vader said. "Prepare an ITO droid."

The breath was sucked from her lungs.

So, that was it then.

_Torture._

"And take her to the detention block," Vader ordered.

"Of course, my Lord," Ricon said.

It hardly registered. Padmé's mind was racing too quickly. About Vader. About Stardust. About any possible avenues to tell the Delegation that the plans had been lost.

Vader returned to his place at the window. He didn't look back.

Padmé watched him go with a frown.

"Come on," a stormtrooper told her. "Get moving."

Padmé tore her eyes from Vader and complied, keeping her head down as they left the bridge.

She waited until they reached the end of the hall.

With a deep breath for courage, Padmé threw her elbow back against the gap in the stormtrooper's abdominal armor.

He let out a surprised grunt and released her. Knowing it could be her only chance, Padmé ran.

"Halt!" another stormtrooper shouted. "You there, halt!"

Padmé turned a corner quickly. Blasts echoed after her, rebounding off the wall. She covered her face and coughed when something smoked. She had to keep moving.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

All around her, an alarm began to blare. One for an escaped prisoner.

Up ahead, over the edge of a nearby balcony, was a familiar place.

_The hangar._

In it was a communications room, and they had left it empty in their mad search for her. If there was even a chance that she could send a message, there was hope. The plans could still be recaptured.

Padmé's heart began to thud as she scanned her surroundings for the elevator. She exhaled. It was just a short stretch away.

Stormtroopers ran in formation through the hangar beneath her, and her captured crew was still awaiting punishment.

Taking a deep breath, Padmé hurried to the elevator and pressed the down button.

She ducked to the side, imagining a horde of stormtroopers spilling out and shooting her on the spot.

The elevator arrived with a soft 'ding' and when it opened it was mercifully empty.

With a sigh of relief, Padmé got in, the door shutting itself behind her.

 _Calm down,_ she told herself.

Still, her mind swam with horrible images of blaster fire, narrow halls, and yellow eyes in frighteningly handsome faces.

The elevator slid open once more.

Her path was clear.

Padmé took a breath to steel herself and broke into a run.

"Got you!"

A stormtrooper caught her around her waist so roughly that he knocked the air from her lungs and tried to cover her mouth with his hand. Padmé bit down as hard as she could against his gloved fingers and he grunted in pain. She slipped from his grip and tried to run once more.

Typho shouted, "Milady!"

His warning came too late. Another stormtrooper grabbed her shoulders and hurled her into the nearest wall.

Padmé's nerves screamed on impact and she fell forward, smacking her head on the floor with a crack.

As she faded away, there was the strangest sound. In the dim place between consciousness and unconsciousness, she heard a lightsaber ignite.

But that couldn't be. Perhaps she was already asleep.

* * *

Vader attacked in blind fury and the stormtroopers who had hurt her had only a moment to react.

The first had a quick death, head falling from his shoulders before he could draw breath. The second was not so lucky.

"Sir," he said, "I—"

Vader caught the stormtrooper by the throat with the Force, lifting him from the ground. Vader did not react as the men apprehended from her crew screamed for their lady's safety in the chaos. He threw the stormtrooper into the nearest control grid. There was an electric hum. The trooper kicked against the current and went still.

Vader silenced his lightsaber, hate still swelling in him. He couldn't stand the sight of her body left lying among theirs.

It was only then that he registered the stares. The stormtroopers and officers who had witnessed his rampage stood in terrified silence.

"The senator is not to be harmed until her interrogation is complete," he said. "The Emperor would be displeased to learn that anyone damaged our chances of getting information from her."

The crowd muttered in understanding. Her crewmen were looking at him like frightened children. The bravest one among them had patched eye and a clenched jaw and was staring at Vader as if he'd very much like to kill him.

Vader could almost respect him for that.

Cautious and quiet, the troopers dispersed back to their stations, some staying behind to clean up their fallen numbers.

Trying to ignore the way he was trembling, Vader knelt at her side and gently pushed her onto her back. He felt another stab of anger.

She had hit her head in the fall and though the injury was small, it was bleeding steadily where it marked her temple.

Brow furrowing with concern, Vader touched the wound, trying to stop the blood flow, and carefully brushed her hair away from her face.

_Her face._

But for bruising from the fall and where that fool Ketti had hit her, she was the same. Full lips, straight brows, moles dotting her cheekbones. Exactly as he remembered her. Exactly as he'd seen her in glimpses on senatorial holoscreens when his master had requested his presence on Coruscant. She had changed very little in their years apart. Time had only made her more herself.

An officer increased his pace when he passed by where Vader knelt, walking quickly out of the hangar, his terror palpable.

Vader knew he needed to have better control. A gratuitous display only inspired more fear than loyalty, as his master often said. That kind of destructive punishment was to be used sparingly. But when he had felt her pain in the Force, he had acted without thinking.

It frightened him.

_I could have hurt her._

His thoughts strayed to years past, to Tatooine, and the familiar sickness of self-loathing swept through him. He pushed the memory away.

Vader couldn't help but wonder what she would have thought if she'd seen him lose control. She was already afraid of him, he had felt it on the bridge.

_She's intelligent. Why wouldn't she fear you?_

The thought did little to lessen the discomfort in his chest. The fact of the matter was that he no longer knew how to act around her. Not anymore.

Once it had been so easy.

_She didn't even recognize me._

The thought stung.

Vader drew his hand away from her temple and pressed it to her cheek instead, this time with a slight push from the Force against the fortress of her mind, trying to wake her. His heart hammered with new concern when she remained still, her breathing shallow.

How badly was she hurt?

There was a strange lump of worry in his throat, a kind he wasn't used to. It should have disgusted him. It would have, had it been for anyone else.

But she wasn't anyone else.

Carefully, he lifted her from the floor.

Vader inhaled swiftly in shock at the warmth of her, the weight, the solid realness of her pressed to his chest. Her head hung limply back, and Vader repositioned her so that her cheek rested on his shoulder. Her breath tickled his neck and he swallowed, his heart trying to leap into his throat.

The man with the eyepatch was still watching him, now in open fury, barely held back by the stormtrooper guards. Vader ignored him and marched away in the direction of the medical facilities, only one word in his mind. It had always been there. It had taken root too long ago to ever truly leave.

It was a part of him, had always been, would always be.

_Padmé._


	3. Origin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Wow, I am so pleased with the response to this story so far! Thanks so much to everyone for stopping in to read :) Because I wrote this fic about a year ago and I'm in the process of cleaning it up for posting, my goal is to do bi-weekly updates until it's complete.
> 
> Any recognizable content from any Star Wars property in this fic is, obviously, not mine.

**Chapter 3**

**Origin**

Anakin whooped as the command center exploded.

He couldn't hear the blast, but he could  _see_ it, bright and sparkling like fireworks on Boonta Eve. He had never seen anything so incredible.

He'd done it!  _They'd_ done it! He had  _helped_!

The other Naboo fighters zoomed past him, turning over as they made for the planet below. Anakin hung back a moment, watching them descend.

"Come on, Artoo," Anakin said with a grin. "Let's go back."

Artoo beeped in agreement as Anakin flipped the controls for a swift glide back to the surface of Naboo.

The fighter didn't obey him. It remained stubbornly still in the vacuum of space.

"Weird," Anakin said, frowning and pushing the controls. They didn't respond. Artoo chirped anxiously. "I'm trying, Artoo! I'm trying! I don't know what's wrong…"

There was a shuddering creak and the fighter began moving backwards.

Anakin held the steering device forward with all his might. It trembled in his hands from the effort. The engine screamed in exertion, but it was no good. He was trapped.

Unable to help it, Anakin began to panic. This was his mother's every fear about flying in space confirmed. Was he going to crash into something? Lose his air? Float away and be lost? Would anyone know what had happened to him?

"What's going on, Artoo?" he cried.

Before Artoo could respond, a shadow fell over the windows. The stars went out and the fighter hit solid, metal floor.

Anakin looked around the total blackness, his heartbeat loud in his ears and his breathing rough with fear.

Finally, he managed to whisper, "I think we were pulled in by a tractor beam…"

Lights flickered on overhead and Anakin jumped.

Shaking, he pulled off his helmet and opened the cockpit, standing on his seat to look around.

He was inside the hangar of another ship, one far larger than Padmé's cruiser, and Anakin suddenly felt very small. There were a few fighters nearby, dark ones that reminded him of the vehicle the strange, horned man had attacked them from on Tatooine.

"Artoo, stay here," Anakin said, trying to keep his voice steady as he climbed out of the fighter.

There was a door just ahead. Carefully, Anakin pressed the button to open it. Beyond it was a bright hallway.

With a frown, Anakin stepped through, only to have the door snap shut behind him.

"What—? Oh no!" Anakin turned and pressed the button again to no avail. He pounded on the door and tried to pry it back open with his fingers. No luck. "Artoo! Artoo!"

Anakin pulled harder.

"Ow!" He broke away, a fingernail chipped and bleeding from his efforts and the door still firmly shut.

He was trapped.

Anakin swallowed and took a step back, holding his bleeding finger. His breathing was shallow in his ears and fear made his heartbeat fast.

Master Yoda had said never to fear.

Trying to slow his breathing, Anakin looked down one end of the hall and then the other. They both broke off into new corridors that he could not see, and there was no getting back through the door.

Seeing no other choice but to move forward, Anakin did and turned right.

There was no sound, no movement, no one else in his path as he neared the end of the hall.

He wanted to cry out for help, for his mother, for Master Qui-Gon or even for Obi-Wan. But he was alone. Besides, if there was one thing being a slave had taught him that being a Jedi never could, calling for help only attracted more trouble.

Noise floated toward him from down the hall.

Laughter.

Anakin took a deep breath for bravery and followed the sound.

"In some ways, it is a shame to lose him. He had such magnificent power...In others, I find myself fortunate."

"Oh no, my friend, it is I who am the fortunate one…"

The men laughed again and Anakin's curiosity was piqued. They were speaking Basic and there was the distinctive chink of plates, cups, and utensils. The smell of food drifted Anakin's way with their conversation. His stomach growled. He hadn't eaten since they'd left Coruscant for Naboo.

He would only take a peek, to see if they were friend or foe. If friend, maybe he could have something to eat. If they were the other thing…

 _I'm fast,_ he thought uncertainly.

He would run for it.

Anakin dared to peer around the corner toward the source of the noise. Inside a vast white room was a long table set with only two chairs. In them were two men.

They were both in middle-age, older than Master Qui-Gon. One was aristocratic, with white hair, dark eyes, and a black cape that fastened at his throat. He had an aura of sophistication as he sipped his wine that made Anakin feel especially small and grubby. The other man had a kind, fatherly face, and was smiling as he leaned forward in his chair to listen. Anakin recognized him.

"Senator Palpatine!" Anakin said before he could stop himself, overcome with relief. Quickly, he added a short bow and said, "Sir."

"Anakin," Senator Palpatine said with delight, standing to welcome him. "Come closer, we've been expecting you."

"You have?" Anakin said and took a step.

Senator Palpatine's friend watched Anakin warily. The judgement in his stare reminded Anakin of what it had felt like in the Jedi Council Chambers. Anakin glared back.

"Yes, son," Senator Palpatine said with a smile. He turned to where a protocol droid with shiny, silver coverings stood waiting for orders. "A chair."

"Yes, sir," the droid said, shuffling away to bring one for Anakin.

Anakin watched it go with a guilty twinge. Threepio could never have such nice coverings, if Mom were ever able to afford any coverings at all.

The droid dropped the chair beside Senator Palpatine's.

"Sit, my boy, sit," Senator Palpatine said. "I have good news, and I'm glad to deliver it in person."

The protocol droid was back, this time pouring water from a pitcher into a large cup.

"All for me?" Anakin asked. He felt his eyes grow larger.

Senator Palpatine nodded with a smile.

"Thanks!" Anakin said and added, "Sir."

Faster than was polite, Anakin drank the water down. He'd never had so much at once and found that once he started drinking, he couldn't stop. He caught sight of Senator Palpatine and his friend exchanging looks and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, embarrassed.

Senator Palpatine seemed to notice. "Another glass for him."

"Yes, sir," the protocol droid said.

Anakin tore his eyes away from the water and looked to Palpatine for permission. "This is really for me?"

"Of course," Senator Palpatine said with a smile. "In fact, this entire banquet is for you, Anakin. You're our guest. Are you hungry?"

 _Always,_ Anakin nearly said, but stopped himself just in time. "Yes, sir."

"Eat, my boy, eat! Don't gorge yourself with water. Try the shurra fruit," Palpatine said. Anakin brought some to his plate, trying to be modest.

The stranger smirked. "And the mead braised Shaak. It's excellent."

Anakin wasn't sure where to start. He had never seen so much food outside of Gardulla's palace, let alone been allowed to eat it. He filled up his plate and, when no one stopped him, began to eat.

Sweet, tart, savory, and spicy. Every flavor burst over his tongue. Anakin found he could not stop shoveling food into his mouth once he'd started. He never wanted to stop again. Now he knew why Hutts stuffed themselves stupid. If he'd had this kind of food, he knew he would, too. He found himself almost weeping with the joy of it and tried to bury that humiliating urge.

"Anakin," Palpatine said, "this is my friend, Count Dooku of Serenno."

_A Count?_

Anakin swallowed loudly and said as formally as he could, "Pleased to meet you, Count Dooku, sir."

Dooku grinned. It was an unpleasant grin. It didn't reach his eyes. "And I you, young Skywalker."

Anakin turned back to Palpatine. "I'm sorry to ask, senator, but what am I doing here?"

Senator Palpatine gave Anakin a kind, sad sort of smile. "I understand that the Jedi Council has decided not to train you."

Shame burned his cheeks and Anakin looked to his knees. "Yes, sir."

"Did they tell you why they won't?" Palpatine asked.

Anakin shifted. "They said I'm too old, and I'm too…"

He wasn't sure how to finish.

"They talked about your emotions, didn't they?" Senator Palpatine said. "They implied you were dangerous...didn't they?"

 _The boy is dangerous._ Something Anakin hadn't been meant to overhear. Did Obi-Wan really believe it? Anakin looked at Palpatine, giving him all the confirmation he needed.

"They fear your potential. Your power. Any fool can see that even now it excels their own," Palpatine said.

"Qui-Gon is going to teach me anyway." Anakin brightened a little and couldn't help but grin. "He'll teach me everything I can learn!"

Palpatine and Dooku exchanged somber glances that made Anakin's heart sink.

"What is it?" he asked.

Count Dooku sighed heavily, true pain on his face. "I'm so sorry to tell you this, boy, but Qui-Gon Jinn is dead."

No. It was impossible.

"He was killed not an hour ago on the planet below us," Dooku said, his mouth set in a grim line. "And I am sorry to hear it. He was, after all, my padawan learner...I will miss him terribly."

Anakin felt his eyes well as he looked from Palpatine to Dooku and back again. "It must be a mistake or…"

"I'm sorry, my boy," Dooku said. "It's the truth."

The last vestiges of Anakin's hope vanished like smoke. Qui-Gon dead. It couldn't be true. And yet it was.

Anakin blinked uselessly against tears. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "But he was a Jedi…"

"The Jedi are not invincible. Some might even say their fallible ideology makes for more fallible beings," Palpatine said. "Until very recently, my friend Dooku here—or I should say, Lord Tyrranus—was among their number. That is, until he expanded his mind."

"What do you mean?" Anakin asked.

Palpatine smiled patiently. "Anakin, if one wants to understand the great mystery, he must study all its aspects."

It was then Anakin noticed what was hanging from the Senator's belt.

"You're a Jedi Knight?" Anakin asked.

Palpatine chuckled as he held up the lightsaber. "No, far from it. But I know the ways of the Force, as does my apprentice, and I would like to pass on my knowledge to you."

Count Dooku—or was it Lord Tyrranus?—scowled.

"In due time, of course," Palpatine said with a strange laugh. For a second, as his eyes fixed on Dooku, his kind smile seemed almost cruel.

"Really?" Anakin asked. "You really mean it?"

Palpatine chuckled. "Of course, son."

Anakin's heart soared. He couldn't wait to tell Padmé. "Great! My fighter's in your hangar. Let's go so we can—"

"Wait a moment, Anakin," Palpatine said. "There's more."

Anakin stopped halfway out of his seat. "What is it?"

"Your training must be kept a secret," Palpatine said. "From everyone."

"My friends…" Anakin began.

"The padawan and the Queen cannot know, son," Palpatine said.

"Why not?" Anakin asked.

"These Jedi are not the heroes of stories they tell slaves," Palpatine said. "If they were to discover you were learning the true ways of the Force, they would show you no mercy. Without hesitation, they would kill you. Or perhaps instead they would target...those you  _care_ about, like Qui-Gon Jinn."

The statement hit Anakin like a punch.

"Or your mother," Palpatine said, "or your friends…"

Fear squirmed in Anakin's stomach. To lose Qui-Gon was one thing, to lose anyone else…

"So you see, to protect them, you must remain with me where it's safe. Your training will be kept secret, and the Jedi won't discover you. No one can know," Palpatine said. He turned to Anakin, raising an eyebrow. "That is, if you still want to learn…"

"I do!" Anakin said. "It's all I've ever wanted."

Palpatine nodded. "Then it is what you shall do. You're fulfilling your destiny, Anakin. And one day...a powerful Sith you will become."

* * *

"Lord Vader."

The holographic image of Sidious flickered to life in the darkness of Vader's chamber.

The Emperor known to the galaxy as Sheev Palpatine was no longer the kindly, aging Chancellor he had been during the war. Instead, he was grotesque. His skin folded and sagged unnaturally around his bones, and his eyes in their hollow sockets were as yellow as his teeth.

A duel with Master Yoda on the Senate floor during the Purge had damaged his features beyond repair, or so the story went.

Vader wasn't sure what was true, that Force Lightning, redirected by Yoda's blade, had left Sidious deformed, or that perhaps he had always been that way beneath his fatherly facade. The only thing that mattered was that Yoda had escaped, along with precious few Jedi that were hidden somewhere in the galaxy beyond the Empire's reach. Nothing made Sidious more bitter, or earned Vader harsher punishment, than how they evaded him.

"I've sensed an unusual disturbance in the Force," Sidious said. "Have you felt it?"

Uneasy, Vader bowed his head. He decided to be truthful. "No, my master."

"Strange that you have not," Sidious said and frowned, something calculating in his stare. The back of Vader's neck prickled. Sidious moved on, "The plans for the weapon are safe again, Lord Vader. I've moved them to my offices in the Senate. They'll be far more secure with me than they were in the Citadel. Today, you have ensured peace for the galaxy, my friend. Your work will be rewarded."

"Your guidance is my reward," Vader said. Surely what he wanted to hear.

"I understand the traitor caught stealing the plans was none other than Senator Amidala."

Vader's stomach dropped. "Yes, master."

"The childhood friend of Anakin Skywalker," Sidious said. "Terrible…Such a betrayal."

It didn't sound as though he thought it was so terrible. Vader saw the hint of a smile on his lips.

"Tell me, my friend," Sidious said, leaning forward so that his face loomed larger in the hologram, "did she remember you?"

Vader clenched his fist. "No, my master."

A hideous grin bloomed on Sidious' face. "A shame."

"Yes, master."

"I see," Sidious said and pressed the tips of his fingers together. "I've heard the rumors of her behavior during the Purge. Of how she and the other senators in that pitiful Delegation smuggled the last of the Jedi through their network of Rebels. This could be our chance to confirm them. Lord Vader, I am instructing you to personally conduct her interrogation."

Vader's stomach turned. He knew what the task entailed.

_No._

"And when you are through," Sidious said, "she is to be...taken care of."

"She's a powerful force in the Senate," Vader found himself saying. "They will not react well to news of her death."

Sidious frowned.

"If we could gain her as an ally…" Vader began, trying to ignore the way his heart was thudding. "It could be useful to have her support. It would crush the Delegation."

"Yes," Sidious said slowly. Vader should have felt some relief, but Sidious' eyes turned crueler. "Interrogate her, learn what you can of the secret Rebel network, and gain us a pledge of loyalty to the Empire."

Vader felt as if he could finally breathe.

"And if she will not give it…" Sidious said. "Well, I'm afraid execution is the only way to remedy the situation."

"I understand, master."

"Surely your feelings on this matter are clear, Lord Vader?" Sidious asked.

Vader swallowed. "Of course."

Sidious nodded and faded away, but Vader had seen from the look in his eyes that he was unconvinced.

Vader inhaled. A pledge of loyalty, or death.

Padmé had to join them. He had to convince her. It was the only way to save her life.

He had made a promise years ago, kneeling before a Tatooine grave. It was a promise he intended to keep.

_I won't fail again._

* * *

Padmé woke slowly, her head throbbing. To be knocked unconscious once was one thing, but twice in one day... She blinked and looked around to find she was lying on her back in a sterile, white room. She tried to sit.

"Stay down." A droid's mechanical voice sounded out. Its instructions were useless. Her wrists were shackled to her cot.

"Where am I?" Padmé dared to ask.

"Venator-class Star Destroyer  _Annihilator,_ " the medical droid replied automatically. It rolled her way and began dabbing bacta on her temple, "Medical bay."

She must have hit her head in the fall, badly enough to need attention. But she was a prisoner.

"Why am I here?" Padmé asked, looking past other cots toward the door. Hers was the only bed occupied, but someone was leaving the room.

Shock rattled her to the bone.

A figure in a black cloak was walking away quickly, but he was unmistakable. Padmé recognized him well enough from behind with his hood down. The way he moved, the gloves on his hands, the sandy hair that brushed his collar.

"Stay still," the droid commanded.

Padmé hardly realized that she'd moved.

Why was Darth Vader in the medical bay? A faint memory rose in her mind, one that could have been a dream. Had he brought her in?

 _Wait._ She nearly said it aloud.

"You sustained a concussion during the altercation in the hangar," the droid said, answering her question at last. "It was severe. You vomited on my surgical machines and began to choke when you were brought in."

It almost sounded as if it were complaining.

"I'm sorry," Padmé said absently.

"You're injuries have been treated," the droid said.

"Thank you," Padmé said, still staring after Vader as he reached the door.

Vader stopped and she frowned.

He was so…

 _Look at me,_ she thought.

He hesitated, then disappeared down the hall.

"I am going to sedate you now," the droid said, "for your transfer to the detention block."

So Vader would heal her, but torture her nonetheless.

The droid rolled over to her, a syringe full of some blue liquid dripping in its grip. "You will feel a pinch."

"No," Padmé said and arched her neck away from the droid's approaching arm.

Straining, she tried to pull her wrist through one of the restraints.

It was nearly out, just the white tips of her red fingers still trapped inside. She whimpered at the pain, trying to jerk them free.  _Almost._

But it wasn't enough.


	4. Loyalty

**Chapter 4**

**Loyalty**

Vader strode past the communications room and down the detention block corridor, trying to ignore the way he was sweating. Behind him marched two stormtroopers, an ITO-interrogator droid floating between them like a phantom.

Padmé's cell was just ahead.

She had seen him in the medical bay. He had felt it.

It had been foolish of him to visit her after delivering her there personally, after killing the troopers in the hangar and Ketti on the bridge, and after speaking to his master— _especially after that_ —but Vader hadn't been able to stay away.

He had wanted to make sure she was all right.

Something was awake in him. Something he had not felt since the night Anakin Skywalker died. Shamefully, Vader clung to the feeling, a flame in his chest that for once wasn't a forest fire.

It felt like a light, soft and flickering.

Vader exhaled slowly. His hands strayed to his cloak, straightening it over his shoulders.

 _It could be wise to tell her the truth,_ Vader thought.  _It could be a useful bargaining chip in the Emperor's deal…_

But what if it wasn't?

Padmé loathed him. Vader had felt it from the moment she saw him on the bridge. The horror, the disgust, and that tinge of fear that radiated from her like the warmth of a sun weighed heavily on his mind. Would the revelation of who he had once been inspire a reunion like the ones he had so foolishly imagined over the years, or create greater hatred for what he had become?

New fear gripped his chest.

Vader could delay it no longer. Undecided, he arrived at her door.

* * *

There was no escaping her cell.

Padmé had checked the integrity of the walls, felt for any loose wires in the ceiling, even taken one of the pins from her hair and jammed it into the door's locking mechanism. The ornament had broken in two with a snap.

She grasped for hope.  _Maybe I can find a diplomatic solution to this mess._

But diplomacy had died four years ago with the Republic.

With a heavy exhale, Padmé sat on the only piece of furniture in her prison—a cold metal slab to sleep on and await death. Judging by the lack of plumbing and the hours that had passed without any food, death would be coming very soon.

Padmé leaned back and closed her eyes. She tried to focus her mind, the way that Obi-Wan had always encouraged, hoping it would be fuel enough for resistance. She had no delusions about what would happen when her interrogators arrived. They were going to hurt her, do what they could to make her talk, and soon after they would kill her, no matter what medical treatments they had allowed her to have.

Frowning, Padmé touched the patch of bacta covering the cut on her forehead.

As a prisoner, she was valuable to the Empire, she knew it, and their decision to treat her head injury could only give them a better chance of extracting information from her.

_But that still doesn't explain…_

Her fingers ghosted over the cut again.

There was a mechanical hum. Padmé sat up as the door opened, expecting to see a legion of officers and stormtroopers marching in. Instead a hooded figure filled the doorway, and she looked up to meet Darth Vader's yellow eyes.

Padmé froze as he stepped inside, leaving two stormtroopers out in the hall. The door closed behind him. Her heartbeat grew rough.

Shocked as she was to see him, she almost didn't notice what had followed Vader in.

Galen had warned the Rebellion that the ITO-interrogator droid was the most brutal instrument for torture that the Empire had devised yet. By the look of it alone, Padmé believed him. It whirred and buzzed malevolently, various instruments outstretched from an armored exterior shell. Mouth dry, Padmé turned her face away.

"Don't be afraid."

Startled, Padmé looked up.

"I'm honored to finally meet you, milady," Vader said. "Formally, that is…"

The most curious expression passed over his face. If he were anyone else, Padmé would have taken it for awkwardness.

She found her voice. "Lord Vader. I'm sorry I can't bring myself to lie and say the same."

There was an uncomfortable silence. The only sound was the low whirring of the ITO. Padmé braced herself for retaliation.

Vader finally spoke. "That's enough pleasantries. Milady, I'm here to discuss your hidden Rebel network. You and your friends in the Delegation of Two Thousand have—"

"Whatever the charges against me, the Delegation has nothing to do with—"

Vader took a step closer to her. "I'm sorry, milady, I thought you said you couldn't bring yourself to lie."

Padmé looked to her knees.

Vader continued, "Despite the charges against you, the Emperor has decided to offer you a deal."

Padmé readied herself. Whatever was coming could be nothing good.

"The Emperor requests," Vader said, "that you publicly offer him your support, turn over the names of any Delegates facilitating the Rebellion and any information on the Jedi they may have harbored after the Purge."

Revulsion swept through her. Padmé trembled with it.

"In return for your loyalty, he would save your life. The exchange is more than fair."

"There's one problem, Lord Vader," Padmé said. "It is my life the Emperor wants."

Vader glared. "What?"

Padmé sat up straighter. "Lord Vader, I have been serving this galaxy since I was a child—"

"So have I."

Padmé blinked. She hadn't expected that. She chose her next words carefully, "Then you must know as well as I do how deep our principles run."

The ITO bobbed closer, floating into her view.

Padmé eyed it cautiously. "What's it doing?"

"The droid is programmed to administer the first shot within minutes of entering your cell," Vader said. "Do you know what will happen to you when it does?"

"Yes, I do," Padmé whispered.

"Then accept the Emperor's offer."

"No."

Vader took a step. "Padmé, please, listen to me—"

"No, you listen!" Padmé said, her frustration mounting. "I gave you my answer. I will not give up the only thing I still believe in to live in a world that I don't."

Vader drew back. His face was shadowed. After a moment's hesitation, he gave a minute nod.

Padmé swallowed and watched the ITO as it approached her, a dripping needle extending from inside. She felt a bolt of fear and suppressed it just as quickly.

Vader would get nothing from her, not through the droid, not through the Force, and never through her own free will. The Rebellion lived on, the Delegation lived on, and Jedi lived on. They were the only things that mattered.

Padmé closed her eyes.

And opened them just as quickly.

With a shudder and a creak, the ITO flew into the nearest wall. Its insides collapsed with a metallic squeal, as if crushed by an invisible force, before it exploded in deadly shards of metal. Padmé cried out and ducked to cover her head.

Vader grunted and Padmé looked up. The worst of the blast had struck the opposite wall, but not all of it. There was shrapnel embedded in Vader's right forearm. Horrified, Padmé stopped short of reaching for him on instinct and realized that, instead of blood and bone, it was wire and metal the projectile had torn through.

Vader yanked the largest shard out with a hiss and pulled off his glove, revealing a mangled prosthetic.

Padmé looked up and met his eyes.

He clutched his ruined forearm and turned away. The door opened and slammed shut just as quickly behind him, sizzling on impact, and Padmé was left alone in the dark.

* * *

Alone in his chambers, Vader repaired his prosthetic as best he could, his hand shaking all the while. The damage was bad, but he could keep it working until he was able to replace it. Vader's metal fingers twitched as he rewired the tendons. He tried to keep his mind on his arm, on fixing what he could fix, but there was no peace in his thoughts.

_You knew that she would never betray the Delegation._

But he had hoped. He hadn't even realized how much he'd hoped.

Vader put down his tools with a shuddering sigh. He felt the same way he had nearly seven years earlier, when Dooku had sliced his right arm clean off at the elbow.

 _Helpless_.

Tugging his glove back on, Vader stood.

He had delayed the inevitable in a moment of blind panic, and damaged priceless Imperial property in the process, not to mention himself, but he could not put it off for much longer.

 _I could lie to my master,_ Vader thought.  _Tell him that she agreed to his conditions._

But Padmé would contradict it the moment she and Sidious were in the same room. The lie was as good as a second death sentence.

_I could let her go._

Vader paused. She was too valuable to the Empire, and no one would believe she had successfully escaped from his Star Destroyer after one attempt had already failed. And what if she were captured again?

Vader could feel the weakness in those rebuttals almost as quickly as he thought them, but decided not to dwell on it.

There had to be another way, and he only hoped he would find it before it was too late. He would have to report back to his master soon.

Padmé was almost out of time.

* * *

Hours after Vader's abrupt departure, Padmé's eyes ached to shut, but she could not sleep. Instead she slowly paced the length of her cell, one hand toying with the chain of her japor snippet. She hated feeling so caged.

All she could do was wait for Vader to return.

 _What will he do when he does?_ she thought.

As if in answer, the broken door at her back rattled open. Padmé tucked away her necklace and turned.

This time, there was no droid to follow Vader inside, no stormtroopers waiting for him in the hall. He was completely and utterly alone.

Her first observation was that Vader hadn't slept much either. He looked awful, eyes shadowed and hair mussed. His expression was grim.

Padmé's eyes darted to his right arm, gloved again and seemingly whole.

"Are you all right?" Padmé asked before she could stop herself.

Vader looked surprised and Padmé wondered if her informal question had crossed a line. A moment later, he nodded.

He closed the distance between them, putting them eye to eye. Padmé inhaled. His irises were like fire, yellow shot with red. They were Maul's eyes, the Emperor's eyes, the eyes of a Sith Lord, frightening and unnatural, but there was a twisted softness there.

Padmé was so struck by the contradiction that she couldn't look away.

"Come with me," Vader said.

"What?" Padmé asked. "Why?"

"You're being put under house arrest."


	5. Flight from the Annihilator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: After an unexpectedly busy week, this chapter is going up later than I'd planned. So look out for another one this weekend to make up for it :)

**Chapter 5**

**Flight from the Annihilator**

"Agh!" Anakin cried out in pain as Dooku's lightsaber sliced through the delicate flesh above his eye, singing his brow. He fell and clutched at the wound, terrified he'd been blinded. But no, he could still see.

Anakin glared up at Dooku, his metal fingers twitching as he imagined wrapping them around the old man's throat. Dooku only smirked and twirled his lightsaber, the promise of victory in his eyes.

"Get up," Sidious growled from a small platform above them.

For the past six years, Sidious, Dooku, and Anakin had moved covertly around Coruscant, occupying abandoned high-rise buildings and underground bunkers alike, anywhere that the Jedi would not find them.

"To keep you safe, son," Sidious had told Anakin.

A lie.

The deserted factory in Coruscant's manufacturing district was the latest location for Anakin's training. As he watched Dooku close in for a killing blow, Anakin realized it could easily be the place he died.

"Get  _up,_ Anakin," Sidious said again.

Anakin forced himself to his feet.

His master was a brutal teacher. There were things about the Force that Anakin had never imagined, but found himself learning quickly, like choking someone with just a thought, and things he could not seem to master, like shooting lightning from his fingers.

Dooku certainly had him beat there. He raised his hand, fingertips crackling with electricity.

"Use your aggressive feelings," Sidious said.

Anakin lurched to the side, narrowly avoiding a blast of lightning. His breathing was coming in so roughly that it hurt his chest and he couldn't seem to stop wiping sweat from his eyes. The burn on his eyebrow stung.

Dooku grinned. "Tired, boy?"

"Not even a little." Anakin lunged for him, taking a running leap and bringing his saber down hard and fast.

Dooku blocked the hit and their lightsabers snarled where they met, red to red.

"Very good, Skywalker. You have hate, you have  _anger_ ," Dooku said and grinned, "and I sense great fear in you."

Loathing licked through Anakin in a blaze, engulfing him in the Dark Side.

Dooku only smirked and leaned forward, trying to push Anakin back. Dooku was older and taller and better trained, but Anakin was younger and quicker and stronger in the Force. For the moment they were matched.

With a grunt, Anakin broke their stalemate and attacked anew, lifting his lightsaber high above his head and swinging it down with all the strength he could muster. Dooku blocked it and countered, but Anakin was on the assault. There was no stopping him. The brutality of his attack shoved Dooku back, forcing him to block faster and more frequently. Soon he would tire.

_Soon I can kill him._

There was a flash of fear in Dooku's eyes.

"Good, Anakin!" Sidious laughed from above.

Anakin's lightsaber clashed relentlessly with Dooku's again and again.

Gone was Dooku's usual grace. His breathing was labored as he held off the onslaught. Sidious cackled.

Dooku grew clumsier and there was an opening. In a burst of energy, Anakin sliced cleanly through Dooku's wrists. Dooku dropped to his knees with a pained gasp, and Anakin held the blade to his throat.

Dooku's lightsaber fell and went silent. He looked from his severed hands to Anakin's furious expression in disbelief.

"Good," Sidious said again as he descended the steps.

Anakin's chest rose and fell with rage.

"Kill him," Sidious said.

Dooku stared at Sidious in shock.

Sidious grinned. "Kill him now."

Anakin held his lightsaber closer to Dooku's throat, trembling with the anger of six years of pain and humiliation. Every snide comment Dooku had ever made, every doubt he had expressed, every injury he had caused flashed through Anakin's mind. At long last, Dooku was finally beaten. Anakin had won.

Then their eyes met and Anakin faltered.

Dooku looked from the saber and back to Anakin, unarmed and silently pleading.

Anakin swallowed. "Master, I…"

Sidious growled, " _Do it_."

Anakin drew back his lightsaber to strike. Dooku flinched, but it did him no good.

 _Kill him,_ Anakin's master had said.

So he did.

* * *

"House arrest?" Padmé repeated. "What are you—?"

Vader broke in, "If you'd prefer to stay here, milady, I'm sure that could be easily arranged."

Mystified, Padmé shook her head. She took a deep breath and dared to ask, "And my interrogation?"

"Has been indefinitely postponed," Vader said, "on the Emperor's orders."

Emperor Palpatine delaying the torture of a Delegate? One with valuable information on the greatest threat to his regime? It didn't sound likely.

 _What could he be planning?_ Padmé wondered. She couldn't begin to imagine.

"What about my captain? My men?" she asked.

"They will not be permitted to accompany us."

Whatever spark of empathy Padmé had felt for Vader faded away.

"Accompany us where?" she asked.

Vader seemed to hear something in the hall that she could not and ignored her.

"Excuse me," Padmé said, not quite able to stifle the irritation in her voice. "Lord Vader, whatever the charges against me, I am still a member of the Imperial Senate. You cannot just go forward with this kind of action and not explain to me what—"

"Be quiet, milady," Vader said with an urgency that made the back of Padmé's neck prickle. He listened at the door as if waiting for something and turned back to her. "We have to go."

Padmé hesitated, weighing her options. Where Vader was taking her and what would happen when they arrived there was a mystery. Judging by his abrupt responses, it wasn't one he intended to explain anytime soon. Padmé's gaze darted around the cramped cell, from the scorch marks on the floor where the droid had exploded to the automatic twitch of the damaged door. It was still a perfect fortress. In the detention block, she was utterly trapped. But somewhere else, under house arrest, she might have a chance to make things right.

Padmé looked to Vader in silent agreement.

He took a pair of restraints from the pocket of his cloak and Padmé held out her wrists, hoping that she had not just made a terrible mistake.

* * *

Vader marched Padmé down the hall, prosthetic hand resting lightly on her shoulder. Even with his arm's damaged sensors, he felt hyper-aware of the small point of contact between them. He forced himself to focus on getting to his shuttle unseen and tried to ignore the way his chest tightened every time he felt her breathe.

The halls were still. The excitement of chasing down a Delegation ship had abated and most of the  _Annihilator's_ crew were back at their stations; Vader had timed he and Padmé's departure against the usual routes of the troopers well. They moved through the halls all but invisibly.

 _We still have a way to go,_ he reminded himself.

Vader knew it was unlikely anyone would take notice of him escorting a prisoner to another part of his own flagship—after all, Sidious had given him stranger missions than this—but if they did, it would still raise questions. Questions became whispers, and whispers never failed to reach the Emperor's ear.

Vader's hand twitched reflexively on Padmé's shoulder and she glanced back at him curiously, but he couldn't meet her eyes. He was afraid of what she might see if he did.

Vader directed Padmé to the elevator near the balcony that overlooked the hangar and stopped cold.

"What is it, Lord Vader?" Padmé asked.

The hangar was crawling with bodies—stormtroopers, death troopers, and officers. In his haste to avoid their patrols, Vader had miscalculated a patrol of the  _Annihilator's_ own. They had several stops scheduled, sending more troops to the home planets of Mid-Rim Delegation members. Sidious was tightening his grip. Naboo, the Emperor's birthplace, was the only exception to the increased Imperial presence.

It was likely best not to share that information with Padmé.

"It's nothing," he lied.

The elevator descended and the silence between them felt tangible. Vader wished he could find the right words to say. He could sense Padmé's apprehension and distrust.

A memory flashed through his mind.

 _You've never won a race? Not even_ finished _?_

The elevator doors opened. Padmé turned toward the hangar, but Vader stopped her mid-step. She gave him a questioning look and he led her away from the bustle to a nearby empty room tucked at the end of a hall. It would have to do.

"You're going to have to stay here," Vader told her, thinking quickly.

Padmé raised her eyebrows. "What?"

"Don't worry. I'll come back."

"That isn't what I'm worried about," Padmé said.

 _Obviously,_ Vader chided himself.

He wanted to say something in parting that didn't make him feel like such a fool. But under Padmé's incredulous stare, he couldn't find the right words.

Vader made to leave. "Wait for me."

What other choice did she have?

Vader shut the door behind him with nothing but a wave of his hand, leaving Padmé in near-darkness. There was the sound of a lock clicking into place.

Frustration swept through her. She couldn't begin to guess the reasoning behind his actions. They were hardly protocol.

_What is he doing out there?_

Padmé took a step toward the door, hoping there might be a way to peer out at him.

An evacuation alarm screeched, making Padmé's ears ring, and red emergency lights flashed overhead, illuminating the sanitation room Vader had put her in. She began to panic, alone in a locked room during an emergency, when something drew her eye to the right.

A simple screen glowed faintly in the bursts of light. Padmé's breath hitched as she came closer.

Displayed on the screen was a link to the Star Destroyer's memo system.

Did she have time to inspect it?

With a glance at the door, Padmé lifted her cuffed hands to the terminal. She would be fast.

Fingers trembling, she found the right button and pushed.

Her eyes darted down a list of memos. There had to be a chance that one of them, just one, could be of some use to her.

Most of them were about maintenance, space travel safety procedures, and transfer and shipping records, hardly sensitive information. Padmé's head was starting to ache from the sound of the alarm. But as she scrolled further and further back, nearing the time of her capture, a single word caught her eye. A code name privy only to the highest-ranking Imperial officers and members of the Delegation in contact with the man who had created it. Padmé went still and read.

_MEMO FIVE-FIVE-ONE-TWO-ZERO._

_RICON, ARCTUS. ADMIRAL. STAR DESTROYER_  ANNIHILATOR,  _VENATOR-CLASS_.

 _TRANSFER OF_ STARDUST _TO IMPERIAL EXECUTIVE OFFICE UNDERWAY._

She covered her mouth to stifle a gasp.

The plans were on Coruscant; they were in Palpatine's offices.

The alarm went silent, the room dark, and Padmé's heart leapt to her throat.

The door began to open. She closed out of the memo and turned.

The brightness from the hangar backlit Vader like a warped halo. He was frowning as he stepped into the dark.

Did he suspect something?

"The evacuation alarm went off. Is everything all right?" Padmé asked, heart thundering in her chest.

Vader gave her a forced smile, an unnerving sight. "Of course, milady."

Padmé didn't believe him, but let him take hold of her upper arm without protest. To her surprise, his left hand was warm, undeniably made of flesh and blood beneath his glove. Out of bizarre interest, Padmé wondered how he had lost the other one.

They stepped out into the hangar and a shiver ran down Padmé's spine.

It was eerily silent.

Not a single stormtrooper or officer or member of a sanitation crew walked past, not even a mouse droid rolled across the floor. The only sounds were of their footsteps as Vader lowered the hatch of an Imperial Theta-class shuttle.

What was the cause for evacuation?

Unsettling as the question was, Padmé had more pressing matters to consider.

She knew where the Death Star plans had been moved. There was still a chance to expose them.

But as long as she was Darth Vader's prisoner, what chance did she have?

 _I'll find a way,_ she vowed.  _I have hope._

Padmé hoped that hope was enough.


	6. Malastare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: As promised :)
> 
> As always, if you recognize the dialogue from Star Wars, it isn't mine.

**Chapter 6**

**Malastare**

For the transport of a prominent Imperial figure, Vader's shuttle was surprisingly empty.

Padmé noted the absence of any troopers or droids, let alone personal possessions, with bewilderment.

She wandered past seats for a squadron of stormtroopers, a table for planning strategy, and a workbench for droids in the belly of the shuttle. There was a threadbare blanket folded on one of the seats and a datapad on the table, but only the workbench appeared to get regular use.

Padmé felt an unwelcome pang of secondhand loneliness at the sight of an oil stain on its surface.

The door slid open behind her.

"Are you hungry?"

Padmé turned. "Excuse me?"

Vader shifted his shoulders. "Because there's food, if you'd like it. It's dehydrated so it doesn't taste like much, but—I mean—help yourself. It's yours."

"No," Padmé said, perhaps a little too fast, and added, "Thank you."

Vader lingered in the doorway a moment and came closer, raising his hand in a familiar gesture. For a heart-stopping second, Padmé wondered if he was going to carry out her execution after all.

Vader waved his hand over her restraints and they clattered to the shuttle floor.

She exhaled and rubbed her wrists.

"You should get some rest, milady," Vader said and turned.

Padmé spoke to his retreating back. "Do you know when we'll reach Coruscant, Lord Vader?"

He stopped mid-step. "We aren't going to Coruscant."

"Then where it is that you're taking me?"

His response was more silence.

Padmé sighed. "Lord Vader, I believe I've gone long enough without asking these questions."

Vader raised his eyebrows.

She hurried to correct her mistake. "I don't mean to presume, but—"

"No. You're right. It isn't fair to you to…" Vader stopped himself. "I'm taking you to Naboo."

"Naboo?" Padmé frowned. "I thought I was under house arrest."

"But it is your home," Vader said. "Isn't it?"

For the first time since the battle above Scarif, as uncertain and exhausted as she was, Padmé couldn't help but smile.

* * *

In the cockpit of his shuttle, Vader entered the coordinates for Malastare with unsteady hands. They would need to exchange his shuttle for a less recognizable ship on their way to Naboo, one that guaranteed Padmé anonymous passage, but he could hardly concentrate on the task at hand. Vader leaned back in his seat and ran a hand over his face.

For the first time in years, Vader felt his age, like a twenty-one-year-old boy incapable of talking to a beautiful woman. Every time he did, he made an idiot of himself.

But Padmé had smiled at him.

Vader's stomach lurched each time he replayed the moment in his mind. He savored the feeling as he made the jump to hyperspace. Stars burst around the cockpit in blue streaks, the shuttle carrying them light-years away from the  _Annihilator._

Malastare wasn't far off. They would be there soon.

Vader stood and went to the holding area.

"Milady, we're—" He stopped.

Padmé lay across a row of seats, her head pillowed on her upper arm, deeply asleep.

For the first time since the bridge, she seemed almost peaceful. But she was still drawn and pale, nearly as white as the high-collared jumpsuit she wore beneath a grey over-jacket.

A frown flickered over Vader's face. He remembered her in bright colors.

"Padmé?" Vader dared to say.

She only shivered in response.

A memory caught in his chest.

_Many things will change when we reach the capitol, Ani, but my caring for you will remain._

His frown faded. Vader had done the unthinkable for her. He had disobeyed his master.

 _I care for you too…_ he thought.

It still felt true.

* * *

Padmé shifted as she came awake, a blanket slipping from her shoulders. Drowsily, she turned and pressed her cheek to it, the fabric well worn, but surprisingly soft. Its scent was familiar. Warm. It reminded her of sunlight. Where had she smelled it before?

_Vader._

Padmé sat straight up, the blanket falling to her waist.

She didn't remember pulling it on.

_Then that means that…_

Padmé felt a shudder of revulsion. No matter how kind the gesture, she did not like the idea of Darth Vader being near her while she slept.

She remembered the dying screams of the men trapped with him above Scarif all too well. The way they had begged for their lives. Their terror. That could easily be her if she weren't careful.

_I'll have to be careful then._

* * *

Padmé hovered in the doorway of the cockpit, Vader's blanket in her arms, working up the courage to venture inside as he brought them out of hyperspace. He was a good pilot, flying the ship as if it were an extension of himself. It was mesmerizing to watch.

_He may not like me watching._

She turned to leave.

"Don't go," Vader said.

Padmé stopped. "I didn't want to disturb you."

"You're not at all."

Cautiously, she ventured closer and lowered herself into the co-pilot's seat.

"Oh, this is yours," Padmé said and held the blanket out to him. "I came to return it."

"Thank you, milady." Vader smiled at her, the smallest lift of a corner of his mouth, as he took the blanket and dropped it over the arm of his seat.

Padmé was struck by that smile in a way that she couldn't bring herself to dissect. She glanced out the window instead and felt a sting of disappointment. "Malastare, Lord Vader?"

"This is a clandestine operation, milady," Vader said. "And we have a stop to make."

Padmé had many more questions, but they could wait.

_Be careful._

She stole a glance at him, trying to read his mood.

Vader's eyes were trained religiously on the shuttle's descent. He was deep in concentration, worrying at his lower lip.

Padmé tilted her head, studying his profile.

"Are you sure we haven't met, Lord Vader?" she asked.

Vader's hands tightened on the steering device. "My master rarely allows me on Coruscant."

"Oh," Padmé said, not quite sure what to make of that information.

"But I've seen you there," he said. "On holoscreens in the Senate."

Padmé was surprised. "You didn't mention that."

"Well, it's not exactly the kind of thing you open an interrogation with."

She laughed before she could stop herself.

It was a ridiculous thing to laugh at, a quip about her own near-torture, but after the day that she'd had, it was impossible not to.

Vader's expression softened, the corners of his mouth turning up.

"I guess you're right," Padmé said.

"It was only once or twice." Vader's smile faded and his tone turned serious. "I couldn't forget your face if I tried to, milady."

Padmé swallowed when he looked at her, his stare glinting golden in Malastare's light pollution.

If they had met, she would have known it.

She would have remembered those eyes.

* * *

As Padmé trailed Darth Vader through the bustling streets of Pixelito, her wrists cuffed once again, her thoughts were a quiet storm.

Her relief at returning to Naboo was being quickly overshadowed by the reality of her circumstances. She was the only member of the Delegation who knew where the Death Star plans were being kept, and had no way to get that information to the Rebellion. There were few lines of communication outside of her Star Skiff's that she trusted to contact the network, none of which she had access to.

 _Besides,_ Padmé thought,  _look what happened the last time._

"You're tense," Vader said.

"You must be imagining it, Lord Vader."

"I can feel it."

Padmé didn't like his answer at all. She kept her eyes on the path ahead of her and tried to keep her mounting anxieties under control, squeezing past a dug and gran who were arguing in a language she couldn't understand.

Bright signs lining the busy street announced a podrace that night. They made Padmé melancholy.

She noticed Vader eyeing the advertisements too.

"Have you ever seen a podrace, Lord Vader?" she asked.

Vader shrugged, a noncommittal gesture. "You have."

"Yes. Once," Padmé said.

Vader gave her a sidelong glance. "And?"

"It was exciting," Padmé said. "But terrifying."

"Why terrifying?"

Padmé was perturbed by his curiosity, but went on. "My planet was under blockade by the Trade Federation. The people were dying, and I was traveling to Coruscant to plead our case in the Senate. But my ship was damaged, and we had to land in the Outer-Rim on Tatooine."

Vader didn't push her, but Padmé continued.

"There was a little boy there, a slave in a junk dealer's shop, who raced pods," Padmé explained and smiled. "He gave us shelter from a storm and offered to win us the money we needed to fix the ship. He didn't ask us for anything in return. He just wanted to help."

Thinking about Anakin was still upsetting. Padmé could hear it in her voice and tried to push it down.

"He entered a podrace for the money," Padmé said. "The entire time I was worried about the Federation and what was happening to Naboo, but I was also worried about him, and how much he was risking for us, and what his mother would do if he were hurt or…" She had to stop herself. Padmé cleared her throat. "So, yes, it was terrifying. But he won. He earned his freedom and came with us. He was going to become a Jedi…" Her face fell. "He died a few days later."

Vader looked at her in surprise.

Shame surged in Padmé's chest and she couldn't keep the words down.

"I tried to track down his mother," she said. "But by the time I did, she had been sold to another master and the Senate would not permit a diplomatic mission to a planet controlled by the Hutts. I should have defied them and gone, but I was young and I—I should have gone. I found out a few years later that she was dead, too, killed in the crossfire of some local war. I don't think she knew her son was lost fighting for my planet. All I brought to their lives was more pain, and I couldn't even bring an end to the system that caused most of it."

Silence caught up with her at last. Padmé's japor snippet felt like a weight around her neck. She was embarrassed for confessing so much, for letting him see that piece of her, but who was less likely to judge her failings than Darth Vader?

And she had failed the Skywalkers terribly.

Vader stopped her with a hand on her shoulder and Padmé nearly leapt out of her skin. His yellow eyes were serious. "You did more to interfere in that system than the Republic ever attempted. I heard you joined the Senate to formally propose an intervention in the Outer-Rim's slavery practices."

Padmé gave him a weak smile. "I think you're exaggerating my influence, Lord Vader. I had very little success."

"You tried," Vader said. "That's more than most people can say."

Padmé swallowed, her shoulder tingling beneath his grip.

Vader released her. "We're here."

Behind him, a shop advertising the trade and purchase of transports fronted a docking bay. Vader went to a window plastered with signs advertising everything from pod-races to dancing girl shows. Behind it, a three-eyed gran sat counting a stack of credits.

"We're closed," the gran said without looking up. "Big race tonight. Come back tomorrow."

Vader leaned in. "You're going to give me the fastest transport you have."

The gran's head snapped up, a look of hazy compliance on his face. "I'm gonna give you the fastest transport I have."

"You will not keep a record."

"I won't keep a record."

"Show me to my ship," Vader said.

The gran hopped off his stool and opened a heavy door beside the shop window. "Right this way. I'll show you to your ship."

Vader held the door open for her and Padmé entered the shop in stunned silence.

* * *

The Class-A Model Specter-Chaser was a nondescript cruiser, its oblong body plated in dark gray, and it was nearly as fast as Vader's own shuttle. Vader nodded in approval as he ran his hands over the controls in the cockpit.

"This will do," Vader told the salesman. "Leave us. Tell no one we were here."

The gran left without another word.

"That was…" Padmé exhaled as Vader removed her restraints once again. "I didn't know you could do that."

Vader shrugged as he prepared to take off. He couldn't tell if she was impressed or not. Secretly, shamefully, he hoped she was.

Padmé took a deep breath. "Where are we going now? Theed?"

"Actually, milady, I was going to ask you," Vader said and immediately sensed her confusion. "The Emperor wants you somewhere remote, but comfortable. However, he failed to provide me with specific coordinates. Do you know the place?"

Padmé seemed floored. "There's Varykino."

"I don't know it," Vader said.

"It's my family's home in the lake country," Padmé explained. "It's very isolated there."

"That'll do."

"I know the coordinates, I'll give them to you."

Padmé stood beside him, her hand on the back of his seat. Vader could feel her nearness the way he felt his own heartbeat, the way he felt the Force. It seemed even stronger now.

Her words still rang in his ears.

The things she'd said about him, and the things she had  _felt_  as she said them…

 _Tell her,_ he thought.  _You can set it right._

But she had already mourned him _._

Mourned his mother.

Vader felt cold.

_No._

Padmé could never know the truth.

"You can enter the coordinates here." Vader turned to give her a datapad, thrumming with guilt. He hoped she couldn't see how shaken he was when she handed it back to him. "The Chommell Sector isn't far. We should be there soon."

"That's good to hear," Padmé said and toyed with the chain of a necklace she wore tucked beneath her collar.

Without her looking at him, Vader found he could almost breathe.

He cleared his throat. "You said it's isolated. Is there a landing platform?"

From the corner of his eye, Vader saw Padmé almost smile.

"There's a boat," she said.


	7. Varykino

**Chapter 7**

**Varykino**

The sun was setting over the lake country as Vader's new ship broke through the atmosphere of Naboo.

Miles of lush green and cool blue flowed beneath the Specter-Chaser like pigments on an artist's palette. Ahead, lakes dotted the countryside and lavish estates nestled every few miles along the water.

Padmé swallowed against a lump in her throat.

It had been so long since she had been home.

The ship sent ripples through the grass as it descended in a field near the lakeside.

Surrounded on circled by hills, fronted by the lake, and miles away from another living being, Padmé was unexpectedly unsettled by the seclusion she had once found so peaceful.

She hoped Vader couldn't see how anxious she was to get off the ship.

Why Palpatine had allowed her the choice of her own prison, Padmé couldn't fathom, but she knew she had made the right decision in coming to Varykino.

She hadn't lied to Vader. The lake retreat was isolated and there was no chance anyone would think to look for her there. It had never been a place that intersected with her political career. It had been for her family.

Padmé remembered the long-ago summers that her father had taken on extra classes, tucking himself away in his study on the retreat's second level, compiling new lesson plans and corresponding with the university on his behemoth old computer. Her mother had always teased him for his reluctance to update it. At her insistence, and jokes about its unsightliness, the computer was kept behind a curtain in his study when not in use. It was an old model, slow and very out of date.

 _Old enough to send signals outside of any Imperial frequency,_ Padmé thought, her heart thudding.

She was certain that the computer could still work. The last summer she had spent at Varykino, Ryoo and Pooja had laughed themselves silly playing with it, sending holograms to Darred for hours until Sola had rushed them outside for fresh air, complaining that she and Padmé had never been allowed to waste so much time indoors as children, and laughing when the girls found creative new ways to avoid playing in the sun.

Padmé missed them all so suddenly that she couldn't breathe.

_I may never see them again._

"Are you all right?" Vader paused as he flipped a switch to open the hatch.

Padmé forced herself to nod. "I'm fine. Excuse me."

She hurried out of the cockpit, down the slowly lowering ramp, and out to the lakeside.

The water was golden in the light of sunset and an empty boat, grimy from lack of use, bobbed at the end of the dock. Paddy and the others who had maintained the lake retreat had stopped coming all together in recent years.

 _Thank goodness for that,_ Padmé thought.

She didn't want to imagine what Vader would have done if the old man had been there to ferry them across.

Padmé closed her eyes and let the air wash over her, breathing in the scents of water and wildflowers and home. Behind her, she could hear Vader getting off the ship.

She turned and saw the stars in his eyes.

Vader couldn't seem to take in enough of the lakeside at once. He inhaled, his gaze sweeping from the flowers at his feet to the distant island in the center of the water. For the first time since she had met him, Padmé thought she saw something close to wonder on his face.

Vader leaned down to brush his fingertips over the pale blue and yellow petals of a flower in the grass.

Padmé dared to take a step his way. "Aren't they beautiful?"

"Yes," Vader said, looking up at her. "Very. What are they?"

"They're called 'ryoo' which means 'brightness'. My niece is named after those flowers," Padmé said and immediately wished she could take it back.

"You have a niece?" Vader asked. He sounded surprised.

Wasn't that the mindful thing to do with murderers? Remind them that you were a person? But Ryoo and Pooja were too precious for Vader to know a thing about.

Padmé nodded, desperate to change the subject. "We should get across before the sun sets."

"Leave it to me," Vader said and strode down the dock. He stepped onto the boat and held out a gloved hand to help her in.

Padmé began to reach for him, but stopped short with a tremor of distrust.

The lake ran deep, connected in some places to Naboo's liquid core. In her eagerness to get to the retreat and contact the Rebellion, Padmé wondered if she had thought through all the potential risks in her plan.

If he killed her, no one would ever find her body.

"You'll be all right, milady," Vader said, startling her. "I promise."

How good a promise from Vader really was, Padmé didn't know, but she had no chance of helping anyone if she stayed on the shore.

With a breath for courage, Padmé took his hand.

The boat rocked beneath her feet as she entered it, but Vader's grip was firm and steadying. He gave her a half-smile, likely meant to be reassuring.

Padmé didn't return it.

_We aren't across yet._

As soon as she sat, he flicked his wrist and they were in motion, propelled along by the Force.

Padmé couldn't stop watching him.

Vader's eyes darted to the hills around them, awe still in evidence on his face and something else.

"You've been here before," Padmé realized.

"Yes." Vader tore his gaze from the landscape and looked instead at his feet. "But it's been a long time…"

He didn't say anything else.

"I haven't been back in over a year," Padmé said. She let her hand skim across the surface of the water. "I've missed it so much."

Padmé looked up to find him watching her and was struck by the intensity of his stare.

"I have, too," Vader said.

The sun was down and the villa silent when they finally pulled up to the dock. The only sound was the gentle lapping of water on the boat's side.

Vader stood first and offered Padmé his hand again. She took it with less hesitation than before.

The evening lights turned on with a hum as they approached the lower level entrance. The veranda was filled with the scent of night-blooming flowers and the sound of their steps on the path. Underneath the nervous buzzing in Padmé's stomach was the comfortable warmth of homecoming.

She went to open the ivy-covered double doors and get inside, but Vader held an arm out, blocking her way.

Padmé stopped. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"Stay right here," Vader said.

Padmé's heart dropped to her stomach as he disappeared into the darkened villa.

She had hoped to go with Vader if he chose to inspect any rooms.

If he was up there alone, if he pulled back the curtain…

Padmé was beginning to regret not accepting Vader's offer of food so many hours ago, wondering if it would have made this moment less dizzying.

 _Don't find it,_ she thought.  _Please don't._

But all she could do was wait, and every minute was torture.

It felt like a lifetime before Vader returned, emerging from the shadows as if he were a part of them, yellow eyes gleaming in the dark.

He didn't look angry or suspicious as he stepped into the light, but he didn't look happy either.

"Everything seems to be all right," Vader said. "You should be safe here."

"Oh. Good." Padmé didn't know what to make of his wording.

"There should be enough food for a while," Vader said. "I checked."

She dug her nails into her palm to stop herself from asking what he'd inspected so thoroughly for.

Vader exhaled. "I have to go."

Padmé's head snapped up, hope fluttering in her chest. "You're leaving me here alone?"

"I can't stay, milady," Vader said.

Padmé could have cried out in relief but managed to remain composed. "When will you be back?"

Vader seemed troubled. "I don't know."

There was something hiding in those three words that Padmé couldn't decipher.

She bit the inside of her cheek. "Is this goodbye then?"

"It could be," Vader said.

With any luck, Padmé would be long gone with the Rebellion before he or anyone else from the Empire returned for her. Though Vader had proved a far less hostile traveling companion than Padmé had predicted, she couldn't say she would miss him.

"Goodbye, milady." Vader gave her a small smile as he drew his hood up. It was warm. Friendly.

Padmé returned it. What could it hurt? "Goodbye, Lord Vader. Thank you for bringing me home."

Vader bit his lip as if he had something else to say in parting, and Padmé saw his mechanical hand twitch, but he gave her a deep nod and marched away onto the veranda.

Padmé waited until she heard the boat moving again to run inside. The lights were off, but her path was clear.

She hurried up the steps to the second level two at a time, turning a well-traveled hallway in the dark and bursting into her father's study.

Padmé stopped at the window overlooking the lake.

Moonlight illuminated the boat skimming across the water, and Vader in it. He looked so small from above, almost undetectable but for the wide trail of ripples in his wake. Padmé wondered if he knew she was watching him.

It wouldn't have surprised her if he did.

It didn't matter. Padmé tore herself away from the speck-like Vader getting further away from her with every passing second, and back to what she'd came for.

The study was large and comfortable, one wall taken up by nothing but overfilled shelves, and the opposite partly covered by a dark curtain.

Her breathing unsteady, Padmé pulled the curtain back to reveal Ruwee Naberrie's computer, chrome-plated and dormant, looking very out of date.

She held her breath and pressed the button to start it.

Nothing happened.

"No," Padmé said, brow furrowing. She pressed it again. Nothing. " _No_. Please work.  _Please_."

An acrid smell floated through the air and a tendril of smoke rose near the base of the curtain.

Padmé hurried over and knelt. Hands shaking, she removed a loose panel on the computer's side. Smoke belched out at her and she coughed.

With a mechanic's precision, Vader had sliced through several wires, leaving them a burning tangled mess.

They sizzled still, the sound cruel laughter to Padmé's ears.

Vader had stranded her.

* * *

The crew of the  _Annihilator_ were not happy to have Vader back. It was unsurprising; he knew his mood had been anything but pleasant since his return. He'd already had to replace one commander who wouldn't stop asking questions about the evacuation.

Vader didn't care. He had more pressing concerns.

After his departure from Naboo, Vader had retrieved his shuttle and left the Specter-Chaser in its place on Malastare without incident. He'd been careful, he'd left no trail, and as far as anyone on the  _Annihilator_ was concerned, Vader had executed Senator Amidala during the chaos of the evacuation and disposed of her remains.

Still, Vader knew the explanation would have to be perfect for his master. It would have to contain the right amount of truth if Sidious were to ever believe it. And that conversation would need to happen very, very soon.

Vader wished he could have stayed with Padmé. If Sidious sensed his disobedience, if he couldn't get back, he should have at least told her that he—

 _Don't think of her,_ Vader thought.  _Give no indication of what actually occurred._

There was no doubt that Sidious would sense it.

"Lord Vader—eugh!"

"Yes, Admiral, what is it?" Vader's voice was calm, but inside he was raging.

Ricon clawed at his throat against the invisible force on his windpipe. "The Emperor—eugh—demands your presence."

Vader let go and Ricon's strangled gasps filled the bridge. "Get us into open space. We'll need to be able to send a clear transmission—"

"I'm sorry, my Lord. You misunderstand," Ricon said. He looked very white. "The Emperor commands that you report to the capitol."

Vader knew he must have shown his shock, for Ricon grew even paler.

"Sh-shall I ready your shuttle, my Lord?" Ricon asked.

"Yes, Admiral," Vader said.

"Is it serious, Lord Vader? Is it about the evacua—" Ricon choked and tugged at his collar.

"No more questions about the evacuation today, Admiral," Vader said and released him. "Set the course."

Vader departed, feeling the eyes of the officers on his back the whole way out.

Outside the activity of the bridge, the ship seemed very quiet and Vader felt terror overtake him.

Sidious never called him to Coruscant without serious reason, and there was only one thing Vader imagined it could be. But he had been so careful.

How could Sidious know?

Renewed hatred for his master flared in Vader's chest.

_He always knows._


	8. A New Mission

**Chapter 8**

**A New Mission**

Space blurred into a haze of stardust as Anakin stared out the Chancellor's shuttle window, his eyes bleary from lack of sleep. In his exhaustion, the distant battle above Utapau looked like nothing more than a Coruscanti light show.

"The end of the war is near," Sidious had said.

Anakin didn't know when that would be. For once, he didn't feel the still-smoldering burn of exclusion as he watched Jedi starfighters attack a Separatist fleet. The war, the clones, the Jedi, they all seemed so far away. There were more pressing things.

_Anakin! Anakin, please! Pl—_

"Is something wrong, son?" Sidious asked.

Anakin gave his master a hesitant nod.

Through his years of training, Anakin had learned to answer honestly. Sidious saw through every lie and was quick to punish them. The last time, he had fried the circuits in Anakin's arm.

Sidious spoke, slow and ponderous, "You've been dreaming again, haven't you?"

Chills erupted down Anakin's back. He hated when his master did that. How he peeled Anakin back layer by layer and examined what was inside. It made him feel like a piece of machinery, an object to be tinkered with, opened and rewired.

"About your mother?" Sidious said. It was more demand than question.

Anakin looked to the floor. The dream was still with him. He could feel the agony of fresh bruises. He could taste blood in his mouth.

Sidious gave Anakin a knowing look. "I am right, aren't I?"

Anakin bowed his head, silent confirmation.

"Tell me, Lord Vader."

It had been a year since Anakin had defeated Dooku and earned his place at Sidious' side, but he was still not used to his new name on his master's lips.

He had been Anakin for so long; It was strange not to be Anakin anymore.

He shuddered and spoke. "My mother is suffering, master. She's in terrible pain and I can feel it. I can  _feel_ it every time I fall asleep. Something is killing her. Please, master, allow me to return to Tatooine. She'll die if I don't. I have to help her."

Sidious drew Anakin from the window with a hand on his shoulder. "Of course you do. But how will you overcome the odds of such an impossible situation?"

"Master, I don't—"

"Without the power to prevent it, this dream of yours will undeniably come to pass," Sidious said, "if it has not already."

Fear swelled in Anakin's stomach. He could still feel his body singing with his mother's pain as if it were his own. But Sidious was wrong. She was alive. Anakin didn't question how he knew it, he just did. There was time left for him to intervene. "I know, master, but what else can I do? All I can do is go back."

"If what you've foreseen is true, then only through the Dark Side of the Force can you gain enough power to save your mother," Sidious said and grinned, "from certain death."

Anakin frowned, but felt a glimmer of hope. What else could there be to learn about the Dark Side that Sidious was not already teaching him? "What must I do, master?"

"Did you ever hear the Tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?"

* * *

It was very early morning when Padmé entered her childhood bedroom at the retreat. The room was the same as it had always been, bright and open and welcoming, an eyelet lace blanket thrown over the end of her bed and a holo of her family smiling from a table near the door. The familiarity was a comfort.

She badly needed comfort.

Padmé lowered herself into the vanity chair and pulled the patch of bacta from her forehead. It stung, but it was satisfying kind of pain, short and sharp. It kept her awake. She pushed a hand through her hair with shaky breath.

A survey of the retreat had proved that Vader had damaged far more than just her father's computer. Every possible line of communication was ruined, from transmitter to comlink. But that hadn't deterred her. Padmé only needed one to send an untraceable message to the Rebels, so that was where her energy went.

She had lost two nights of sleep trying to salvage the study computer's wiring and had almost nothing to show for it. It was beyond what she could fix with what was at her disposal.

 _If I had a droid, then maybe I could…_  Padmé thought. But the only droid she owned was in her apartment on Coruscant.

Padmé sighed in frustration. She had never imagined that she would be marooned at Varykino. She looked longingly to the horizon outside her window.

If she were to plan an escape, the circumstances were not in her favor.

The lake was too vast and too deep to consider swimming across without multiple stops she couldn't make. The hills surrounding the lake country were too steep and too treacherous to camp through without supplies she didn't have. The closest neighboring estate was miles away and just as well hidden, and who knew if the residents there were friends of the Empire?

There wasn't a doubt in Padmé's mind that Palpatine would spread word of her treachery, if he hadn't already. The sooner that happened, the sooner a successful escape became almost impossible.

_If Vader were to come back, it's possible I could—_

No.

For all the moments of friendliness, even admiration, that Vader had shown her, he still lived up to his reputation as a merciless killer. The information she knew about Stardust's relocation was too important to the galaxy to risk losing along with her life.

Though Padmé knew she could read Vader better than she would any other Imperial official Palpatine might send in his place, she refused to entertain the idea that he could be of any help to her, even unwittingly.

_I'm not so desperate yet._

Padmé sighed.

No, she was just desperate enough.

For her sake, he would need to stay away. She couldn't trust herself not to do anything reckless.

_I cannot just sit here and do nothing._

With a longing glance at the bed behind her in the mirror, Padmé stood. There had to be more work she could do.

She couldn't give up yet.

* * *

_Senator Amidala would not accept our offer. She would not give up any information. There was a dioxis leak. I executed her before the evacuation. I disposed of her remains._

Darth Vader ran the words through his mind on repeat as he made his way to the Imperial Executive Office. He had practiced the story a thousand times over on his journey to the capitol, but Vader would need to do more than simply say the right things. He would need to feel them.

A flood of memory and emotion were trapped within the walls of his mind, giving him more than enough loathing to fuel his use of Dark Side, but never breaking through.

To keep Padmé safe, Vader would need to make a chink in the dam.

The prospect left his mouth dry.

Representatives walked quietly through the Senate halls ahead of the day's session, a somber crowd. Vader recognized two of them as Delegation members, Padmé's friends Bail Organa of Alderaan and Mon Mothma of Chandrila.

An unwelcome thought ran through Vader's mind.

Did they worry, knowing that Padmé had been caught by the Empire? Or had they learned the official story he had logged aboard the  _Annihilator_?

Vader felt an uncomfortable squirm in his stomach.

He could feel their stares of curiosity as he passed and tugged his hood further down. He didn't need any more trouble to contend with.

It was silent in the belly of the Senate building and the halls surrounding the Emperor's offices were kept cold. Vader felt the familiar chill as he walked the final stretch to the entry point, his breathing shallow.

Ahead, two of the Emperor's guards blocked the door, faceless in red armor. They stepped aside as he approached.

_Refused our offer. No information. Dioxis leak. Evacuation. I executed her. She's dead._

It was pointless to delay it. Vader took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The offices' wide entry hall was lined with sculptures and artifacts. Vader could feel the eyes of a clay statue following him as he passed, its mouth open in a silent scream.

Sidious sat in his office chair, the schematics for project Stardust open before him. As Vader entered the room, the hologram faded away.

"Welcome, Lord Vader," Sidious said.

Vader knelt, bracing himself on shaking fists. "Master."

Sidious turned in his chair to face him. "I understand there was an emergency evacuation on the  _Annihilator_."

"Yes, master," Vader said. He looked up, his face neutral. "An ITO droid malfunctioned and caused a dioxis leak in the detention block."

"Unfortunate."

Vader's expression didn't waver.

"And what were the results of Senator Amidala's interrogation?" Sidious asked. "Did she accept our offer of an alliance?"

Vader bowed his head. Fear tasted like bile in his mouth. "No, master."

Sidious grinned, slow and sinister.

"Her resistance to the mind probe was considerable." Vader stared at his feet. "I could not extract any information from her. It was a useless action. Senator Amidala would never betray her ideals."

Vader's stomach turned. A different night crept through his mind.

 _Crouched in the desert sand, cradling a lifeless body_ —

"It is done then?" Sidious asked. "The senator was destroyed?"

— _and shutting its eyes. The smell of a sail barge burning and_ —

"Yes, master."

"Did she suffer?"

Vader was beginning to feel sick. Guilt pounded in his chest like a second heartbeat, running through his veins like blood. He pulsed with it.

— _rage boiling in his chest. He raised his lightsaber—_

Padmé had suffered aboard the  _Annihilator_. She had been captured by the Empire, injured, nearly tortured. She had looked at Vader like he was a virus.

"Yes, master."

Sidious leaned forward in his seat. "Did she scream?"

Padmé's cry when the ITO exploded floated through Vader's mind.

— _and the remaining men screamed as he cut them down—_

Vader swallowed thickly. "Yes, master."

"She was too dangerous to be left alive." Sidious' brows drew together in a mockery of sympathy. "Oh what a shame you had to be the one to kill her. The things Anakin Skywalker told me about the Queen of Naboo…why, they were nearly worshipful. Do you remember, Lord Vader?"

— _but none of it mattered. Nothing mattered. He had failed._

Twin metal sculptures on either side of the room creaked as Vader's emotions rose. They whined as they collapsed in on themselves. Vader could feel Sidious' glee, but ignored it as he struggled against the threat of tears. He could feel them attempting to escape, prickling and hot. He hadn't thought of that night in so long.

"I remember, master."

"I have waited a long time for this." Sidious laughed, a harsh cackle, and stood. "You have done well, my young apprentice. Rise."

Vader forced himself to his feet, the sound of his breathing loud to his own ears, and wiped his eyes when Sidious wasn't looking.

"Now, onto more important matters," Sidious said.

Startled, Vader caught his breath and tried to smother his relief under the guise of lingering emotion.

"I know you're wondering why I brought you here." Sidious clapped Vader on the shoulder, his hand steady and claw-like as they walked through the office and into the antechamber. "Your failure to gain access to the Rebel network can be overlooked, Lord Vader. Imperial Intelligence Units have intercepted Rebel transmissions about an upcoming summit. The Delegate leaders will surely attend."

Vader shuddered with a swallow and tried to clear his mind. "Do we have proof of this, master?"

"Exposing the Delegation is insignificant in this matter."

Vader shook his head. "I'm not sure I understand."

Sidious' grip tightened. "The transmissions confirm something we've long suspected. At this meeting, the Rebellion will be joined by the last remaining Jedi."

Vader looked to Sidious in shock.

"They have hidden from us long enough, Lord Vader," Sidious said, "and they can hide no longer. I will announce Senator Amidala's execution at a special session of congress. The Delegation will see the price for their lack of loyalty. Their fear will make them clumsy. I have foreseen it. You will study these transmissions and uncover their secret Rebel meeting place. Hunt them down. Wipe them out. And our victory over the Jedi will be complete."

Vader's response was automatic, "I will, master."

"And when they are gone…" They reached the door. Sidious released him. "We will have peace."

* * *

It wasn't until he reached his shuttle that Vader felt it was safe to think. He was still shaking with the depth of his hatred for Sidious, for himself, and for Anakin Skywalker for being so weak.

But Sidious didn't know Padmé was alive.

Vader exhaled and leaned over, his head on his hands. He had done it. She was safe. Vader closed his eyes, a strangled laugh trapped in his throat.

There was the sound of an incoming transmission.

Vader's relief dimmed as he skimmed Sidious' intercepted message.

Written in code and transcribed in Basic, nothing in the transmission made a bit of sense to Vader outside of the Empire's annotations, but the Intelligence Units seemed to have understood well enough to decipher it, with the exception of one phrase.

_LOCATION: On the water_

Brow furrowing, Vader closed the message. He didn't know what it meant.

_But Padmé might._

Vader's breath caught.

If Padmé did know the code, he had no delusions that she would tell him willingly. But if he were careful, if he asked the right questions, maybe she would slip.

_And I would get to see her again._

Vader's chest tightened. He found that he was trembling again, but for another emotion entirely.

His mind was made up; he entered coordinates and prepared to take off.

He was going back to Naboo.


	9. The Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: First off, I want to apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. Chapter 10 shouldn't have as much of a wait :) Secondly, thanks again for all of your feedback. You guys are seriously amaze. Thank you so much for reading!

**Chapter 9**

**The Return**

The muscles in Padmé's arms trembled as she clipped the last bit of charred wire from the computer's main hub. Though it had taken another night of careful work—and the constant fear that the Empire would show up on her doorstep—the inside was clean at least, and clean enough to see just how extensive the damage really was.

Padmé dropped the burned wire into a small pile of ruined parts and sank down with her back to the wall.

She had been in constant conflict with herself for the last day, packing and unpacking Sola's old suitcase whenever the urge to flee overtook the one to fight. With the hope of rewiring not entirely snuffed out, Padmé could justify taking a break. She pulled off her gloves, massaging her sore hands.

Through the window, the early evening sky was studded with its brightest stars, and Padmé's head throbbed from lack of sleep in time with their twinkling. She would only take a minute, rest her head against the softness of the curtain behind her, and then get back to work.

 _It will be slow…_ she thought for the thousandth time.

At least it no longer seemed impossible.

Padmé touched her japor snippet where it was tucked beneath the dark navy of her bodice. She closed her eyes, with a silent promise that she would make things right.

It wasn't until she was blinking in the muted light of morning that Padmé realized she had fallen asleep.

Bolting up after such long-needed rest made her head swim, but she fought to ignore it. How much time had passed?

A flicker of movement flashed in the window.

 _Enough,_ Padmé realized.

The Empire was back.

Blood pounded in her ears. The boat had pulled up, she was sure of it, but it was already at the dock, out of her eyeline, and she had no idea who it had carried across the water.

But Padmé intended to find out.

* * *

Anakin Skywalker may have been dead, but the part of him that loved Naboo lived on.

Vader took in the smell of summer flowers and the way that the lake shimmered in the early morning light, but neither could not untie the knot of anticipation in his stomach. Because better than those things, better than anything, was that Padmé was there.

It had been all Vader could do not to run to the villa the moment he'd made it across the lake.

But as he tied up the boat at the dock, and his gaze flickered over the wide expanse of water, unexpected concern clouded his mind.

The words of Sidious' transmission came back to him and, with them, a prickle of dread.

_No._

It couldn't be.

Padmé was devoted to her cause, but she was careful. She had known that the Empire might return to Varykino. It wasn't likely she would risk everything that she believed in by leading Vader to the Jedi's door.

 _But she_   _was desperate,_ Vader thought.  _Desperate enough to come with me…_

He could remember the fourteen-year-old girl who had unseated a Chancellor, walked into danger against insurmountable odds, and knelt before an enemy leader to make peace, all so she could stand the smallest chance of saving her world.

And she had won.

Vader had always known how brave she was, but he had never realized how impulsive.

He would have been impressed if he weren't so worried.

 _On the water…_ Vader frowned, troubled.

No, it wasn't likely, but it was possible.

Vader didn't know what he would do if it were true.

* * *

Padmé was halfway down the steps of the outdoor staircase when she heard them.

Footsteps.

With a start, she descended the rest of the way and ducked into an alcove parallel to the balustrade. Shielded in the shadow of a statue, she strained to hear if someone was coming.

There was nothing.

Padmé took a hasty glance down the path and exhaled, thankful to see it was empty. There was a good chance she could get past the dock, through the gardens, and to a better vantage point if she moved quickly enough.

She steeled herself and turned the corner, rushing down the steps—

And straight into Darth Vader.

Padmé caught herself on his shoulders with a sharp gasp, certain she would send them into the water, but Vader was fast. He grasped a short stone column before they could fall, holding her upright.

Vader looked down at her, wide-eyed. His mechanical hand tightened where it gripped her hip and a jolt danced up Padmé's side in reaction. The heat of his skin felt like sunlight through his clothing.

Immediately, Padmé moved to step back, and Vader dropped his hold on her as if she'd burned him.

A sting of embarrassment ran through her, mingling with her sudden unease.

"Lord Vader." Padmé pushed a loose curl behind her ear, trying to reclaim some dignity. "I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting you."

"No. I'm sorry, milady. I shouldn't have—" Vader cut himself off. He wouldn't look at her.

Was he angry?

Silence fogged between them. Padmé could still feel the ghost of his hand where he'd held her. Her skin tingled there.

Vader cleared his throat. "Do you usually run everywhere this early in the morning?"

A bolt of fear rattled Padmé to the bone. Did he suspect something?

Then Vader's eyes lit up, as if he were fighting to stay serious.

Padmé was dumbstruck.

"You're making fun of me…" she said.

"Of course not, milady." But Vader's stern expression crumbled away, breaking into a smile that was startling in its brightness. He ducked his head, as if he could hide it. "All right. A little."

Padmé felt lightheaded at the strangeness of it all.

And at the ease.

She shook her head. "I didn't know you were coming back."

Vader's eyes looked softer than she'd ever seen them, for once not shadowed and harsh. "I didn't either, but I received new orders from my master."

"Oh?" Padmé's apprehension rose.

"And I'm happy I did," Vader said.

Padmé swallowed. "Why is that, Lord Vader?"

Vader's eyes grew larger. "Well…without me here, you would have fallen in the lake."

The laugh he let out was breathless, almost self-deprecating, and Padmé couldn't help but laugh, too, in relief.

So he wasn't there to harm her after all.

Perhaps there was a chance that she could…

 _No. Your thoughts are far too reckless,_ Padmé warned herself.

But laughing with Vader felt as natural as drawing breath.

Her fingers strayed to the chain of her necklace and she hoped she could be brave.

For Anakin. For everyone like Anakin.

She was going to get Darth Vader's help, whether he was aware of it or not.

"Are you hungry?" Padmé asked. "I was going to make something."

Vader blinked at her.

Had she crossed a line?

Padmé recovered quickly. "Considering my status as an Imperial prisoner, I understand if you aren't permitted to—"

"No. I mean,  _yes,_ I'd—Yes," Vader said. "I'd like that."

* * *

Padmé lingered in the doorway when Vader entered the kitchen, taking in the strange sight of him with his black robes and evil eyes amid the gleaming appliances beneath each counter and the flowering plants in the windows. Vader stood awkwardly, neither sitting down nor standing near any furniture, as if he knew how out of place he looked.

"I hope you don't mind rehydrated grain," Padmé said. "It's all I have."

Vader trailed her to the counter. "Not at all."

Padmé could feel his eyes on the back of her neck as she retrieved the capsules from their storage container. She glanced back at him and he looked away, moving to a nearby window.

Vader stared out at the waterfalls in the far-off meadow. "It's beautiful here, right on the water…"

Padmé only nodded. He was watching her again, but her thoughts were elsewhere, on finding the right words and deciding how to say them. She paid him no mind.

"Do you need any help?" Vader asked.

Surprised, Padmé handed him a bowl and a capsule to rehydrate in it.

"It feels so strange," she said. "Being here, making this every day. Especially now…I remember doing this with my family when I was a little girl."

"I know what you mean. I used to do this with my mother."

Padmé tried to hide how much that threw her.

Darth Vader was an entity without origin, a horror story that lurked in the Outer-Rim and emerged to bring blood and terror to an unsuspecting galaxy.

Padmé had never imagined him as someone's son.

"I'm sure she was grateful for it," she said. "I got caught up in politics when I was so young. After a while, I wasn't able to help with this kind of thing. I missed it."

"I did, too," Vader said quietly. "I always wanted to help…I never minded."

Padmé felt a flicker of guilt at the wistful note in his voice. She hadn't meant to bring up something painful.

She hesitated and spoke. "Then it's a good thing you're here. Maybe we can both make up for lost time."

Vader emerged from whatever memory he was stuck in, his expression unreadable. "Maybe."

He followed her to the table, each of them carrying a bowl of rehydrated mush.

Before Padmé could sit, Vader set his bowl down and circled back to her side.

She went still as he closed in on her, her eyes darting along the powerful line of his shoulders. She had felt for herself how strong he was. Vader didn't need the Force to do her serious injury. Padmé's breath hitched when he reached for her, only for him to pull her chair back.

Slowly, she sat.

"Thank you," Padmé said.

"You're welcome, milady."

Her heartbeat was still skittering.

They began eating in silence. The rehydrated food tasted stale from its years in storage. Padmé took small bites, trying to keep it down and quiet her growling stomach, but she was almost too nervous to eat. Vader tucked in as if he didn't notice the taste.

"This is good," he said after a moment.

Padmé raised an eyebrow.

"Well, no," Vader admitted, "it's lousy, but trust me, I've had worse."

"Really? I can hardly imagine." Padmé smiled and Vader took a defiant bite.

"I don't eat solid food much anymore," he said. "I miss chewing."

"What do you mean?" Padmé asked.

"The Empire encourages efficiency," Vader said, as if reciting. He smirked. "Eating on the job isn't very efficient. One of the Imperial scientists in the officer's training division came up with the idea of liquid nutritional supplements as a daily substitute for three meals."

"Does that work?" Padmé asked, admittedly curious.

"It works," Vader said, "but they taste like rotten bantha meat."

Padmé wrinkled her nose before she could stop herself.

"So you see, milady," Vader said. "This isn't so bad."

"I know I've gotten used to it." Padmé glanced at him as she stirred her spoon through the grain.

"But you shouldn't have to. I can bring you better food," Vader said. "Whatever you like."

"No supplements?" Padmé said.

Vader laughed. "No, none of those. I promise."

"Well, as long as we've established a guideline…"

"Do you need anything else?" Vader asked. He sounded sincere enough.

Padmé's heart hammered. "I'd prefer it if I had more clothing."

For some reason, her request made Vader's mouth twitch.

"I don't keep much here," Padmé said. She inhaled. "And I have a droid—"

"No," Vader cut her off. "The Emperor would never allow it."

"Excuse me, I wasn't finished," Padmé said, not quite able to keep all of the bite from her voice. When Vader didn't speak, she went on, "This retreat is usually staffed by more than one person. I have an astromech droid, and it would be a great help to have him for domestic purposes. I can't see how Emperor Palpatine would object."

Vader looked skeptical.

"In any case," Padmé said, "it's quiet here."

Vader put down his spoon. "I'll bring you something else to eat and your clothes, but we'll see about the droid"

It wasn't the answer she'd been hoping for, but it wasn't a refusal either. Unthinking with relief, Padmé took a larger bite than she intended and made a face.

She almost didn't catch Vader's smile.


	10. Senator Organa

**Chapter 10**

**Senator Organa**

Deafening victory cries rang through the palace halls. Viceroy Gunray was in shackles, the battle droids were disabled, and after their long struggle, Naboo was finally free.

A pilot saluted Padmé, and she grinned. It was as if the invasion had been a physical burden bearing down on her chest, and with it gone she could breathe again.

Through the vast windows of the corridor, Padmé watched yellow starfighters zoom back into the hangar. Cheers from the crowd in the square below echoed through the palace like festival music, but not everyone was celebrating.

Obi-Wan stood apart from the exuberance, solemn and withdrawn.

Cautiously, Padmé approached him. "Obi-Wan?"

"Padmé." Obi-Wan's face was tearstained, but, still, he smiled. "Though, I should call you 'your highness' now that the secret is out."

Padmé shook her head. "How long have you known?"

"Oh since—since we rescued your party from the Federation," Obi-Wan said, eyes twinkling. "Strange that the queen was always looking to her handmaiden for orders."

He chuckled, but it faded quickly.

"Are you all right?" Padmé asked. "Where's Qui-Gon?"

Obi-Wan's face fell. "He's…Padmé, he's dead."

Padmé inhaled sharply. "No. Not Qui-Gon. He can't be."

"He is," Obi-Wan said gently. He paused. "He was killed by the…well, by what he believed to be a Sith Lord."

"No." Padmé's voice quavered. "Oh, Obi-Wan, I'm so sorry…"

She had liked Qui-Gon. Yes, he'd driven her mad with his reckless ways, but she had respected him deeply nonetheless.

_He saved Anakin. He tried to save Shmi._

"Oh no. Ani." Padmé's heart sank. "We have to tell Ani…"

"I will do it," Obi-Wan said. "In any case, I must speak with him. Master Yoda and the council are on their way to Naboo. I'm seeking their permission to train him, and I will, whatever their decision on the matter. It was Qui-Gon's last wish."

His words hung heavily between them.

Padmé swallowed against the well of emotion in her chest, putting on a diplomatic face—a second-mask, one far less noticeable than the Queen's makeup, but easier to hide behind. "Then I hope that it's granted to you, for Anakin's sake and for Qui-Gon's."

Obi-Wan smiled at her. "Thank you, your highness. That means a great deal."

"Where is Ani?" Padmé asked, turning back to the bustle in the hangar.

"I do not know, your highness," Obi-Wan said. "I've been waiting for him. I believed that he would land soon."

A group of pilots stood laughing nearby. Padmé approached them.

"Captain," she said.

He snapped to attention. "Yes, your highness."

"There was a boy here. Anakin Skywalker. He flew into battle," Padmé said.

"The kid?" The captain laughed. "Took out the entire station! I've never seen anything like it. Damn, what a pilot!" He caught himself and cleared his throat with a quick bow. "Your highness, I apologize."

Padmé shook her head. "There's no need. Do you know where he went?"

"Last I saw, he was flying back here," the captain said. "He's probably already inside."

"Yes…" Padmé said. "Thank you."

She turned to Obi-Wan. His expression echoed her worry.

"Anakin never reentered the hangar," Obi-Wan said.

Padmé turned on her heel and ran back toward the throne room through the crowds.

"Ani?" Padmé called down each corridor she passed. "Ani, are you here? Anakin?"

She imagined that if she just turned the right corner, she would hear him exclaim for her to stop worrying, to stare at her with large blue eyes that always seemed to know too much. But there was no sign of Anakin. There was no response at all.

Down the corridor, Jar Jar was relaying his tale of victory on the battlefield to a small crowd of guards and a few of Padmé's handmaidens, their expressions ranging from mild amusement to annoyance.

"Dersa big explosion in space," Jar Jar said. "We're losing very badly, then all the droids went kaput and we  _crunched_  them!"

Padmé's heart felt faint.

 _An explosion._ One far above the skies of Naboo.

She had caught a glimpse of it through the throne room window.

_Took out the entire station…_

An explosion on the command ship had sent every battle droid falling to the ground. It had ensured their victory. And if Ani had been anywhere near it, just close enough, it could have—

Padmé's breath caught.

"Yousa okay, your royal highnessness?"

Padmé realized that Jar Jar and his audience had turned their attention to her, staring with concern.

"Yes, I'm…Excuse me."

Forgetting her careful poise, she turned and ran, not stopping until she was back to where she'd started.

"Obi-Wan," Padmé said. "Is Anakin dead?"

She knew how she sounded in that moment—not like a Queen, but a frightened child.

"What?" Obi-Wan's eyes grew larger.

"I can't find him anywhere, and there was an explosion. He may have been—"

"Padmé." Obi-Wan placed his hands on her shoulders. "Calm down. Relax. Take a deep breath."

She tried to do as he said, but the air she drew in felt thin and useless. Padmé gasped. "I can't."

"You can. Breathe," Obi-Wan repeated.

Padmé inhaled shakily.

Obi-Wan ran a hand over his face. "Now, what's happened?"

Padmé relayed it as best she could, how Anakin had destroyed the command ship and the massive explosion that had filled the sky afterwards. How no one had seen him since. Obi-Wan listened with tight lips.

"It's possible, but not likely," he said at last. "I believe I would have sensed it. The death of someone with his abilities would have sent certain ripples through the Force. Your highness, we will find him, wherever he went. But you must try not panic—"

The sound of an engine made Padmé look up in hope.

The starfighter Anakin had departed in, Artoo still aboard, glided smoothly into its place in the hangar. The fist around Padmé's heart unclenched and she ran to meet him, dizzy with relief.

"Ani!" she said. "Ani, thank goodness, we were so—"

The cockpit was empty.

Padmé put a hand to her mouth and stifled a cry.

Anakin was gone.

_But where did he go?_

* * *

Five Hundred Republica.

One of Coruscant's most prestigious apartment buildings in the Senatorial District. Sidious had once kept a residence there, during his time as Senator. Vader could remember that place well enough, red-walled and ominous.

Padmé's apartment was on one of the upper levels.

 _Therein lies the problem,_ Vader thought.

Even at night, it was a very visible place.

_And very near the Senate Building._

Sidious could sense his presence if Vader weren't careful.

_I'll be careful enough._

Vader adjusted his hood over his head and climbed out of his speeder onto Padmé's private balcony.

Low automatic lights turned on as he passed beneath twin winged statues. The only sound came from a bubbling fountain, eerie in the dim light.

Vader walked past couches and curtains, through an archway to the interior of Padmé's home.

It was deathly quiet, as though he'd walked into a tomb. In some ways, he reminded himself, he had.

A familiar, inquisitive beep broke through the silence.

Vader started and saw the radar eye of a blue-domed astromech droid watching him from the cover of a curtained archway.

 _No,_ Vader thought,  _it can't be…_

He took a step.

"Artoo?" Vader could barely conceal his shock.

The little droid bleeped again and rolled backwards as he approached.

Kitster Banai's words, ones Vader hadn't thought of in years, floated through his mind.

_Wow, a real astro-droid! How'd you get so lucky?_

So, Artoo had made it out all right after all. Vader had always assumed Sidious had shot him into the vacuum of space.

Vader couldn't quite hold back a smile. "Remember me?"

Artoo gave a distrustful whistle.

"No?" Vader knelt. "Come on, Artoo…"

Artoo shook his head and rolled back another inch.

Vader was disturbed by how deep it cut.

"So it's you Padmé wants me to bring to her." Vader sighed and Artoo whistled inquisitively. "Yes, of course you can trust me. I'm her friend."

Another bleep of suspicion.

"All right, 'friend' may be too strong of word for…" Vader sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I need to bring her some things. Clothes and—"

With a chirp, Artoo bumped against Vader's legs, making him turn, and rolled into a darkened room.

"Are you helping me?" Vader asked.

A noise of denial came from the dark interior. The meaning was clear.

_Not you._

"You're helping  _Padmé_ ," Vader said. "That's all I'm trying to do, too."

But his stomach churned and a small voice in the back of his mind whispered, _Selfish. Liar._

Pushing those thoughts down, Vader followed Artoo into Padmé's bedroom, and swallowed hard.

Walking into the place where Padmé slept each night suddenly felt far more daunting than he'd imagined.

 _You told her you would bring her clothes,_ Vader thought and walked inside.

There wasn't a doubt in his mind that the room had been picked clean by Sidious' agents in search of ties to the Rebellion. Everything had been left a little too neat to be lived in, but it still looked like hers, blue and serene.

A vase on Padmé's nightstand made Vader pause. He reached out to touch one of the dried flowers inside, and the petal crumbled beneath his fingertips.

_Ryoo._

Padmé's niece. Her family, the one he had never paid a second thought to, were now all too present in his mind. Did they know yet of her death? Was there a little girl somewhere on Naboo mourning the loss of her aunt?

 _What does it matter?_ Vader thought, growing angry with himself for his sympathies.

He had managed to live after the agony of loss, and so could Ryoo Naberrie.

But Vader still felt that unpleasant squirm he couldn't quash.

_Selfish. Liar. Killer._

He turned away.

Instead, he went to the closet.

A few empty suitcases lined the shelf above racks and racks of clothes. Vader pulled a suitcase down and found himself at a loss for where to start.

Artoo followed him closely, still wary.

"Does she need all of these outside the Senate?" Vader asked, his eyes darting from outfit to outfit. Every color and fabric he could have imagined were packed inside the small space. He was overwhelmed by the prospect of sorting through them all.

Artoo responded in negative and rolled over to one side of the closet where the clothing was more casual and less elaborate. Vader reached for a hanger. A garment hung from in two pieces, pale blue, and soft as a cloud against his ungloved skin, almost insubstantial. The thought of Padmé wearing it left Vader's hands shaky. Hastily, he packed it away.

Vader fit as much as he could inside the suitcase, but when he was finished, he'd barely made a dent in her wardrobe.

"This should be enough," Vader said. Artoo sounded as if he agreed.

Vader lifted the suitcase—which was surprisingly heavy—and, after a moment's hesitation, gestured for Artoo to follow.

"Come on. Padmé will want to see you," Vader said. "This doesn't mean that you can stay, but—"

With a delighted whistle, Artoo rolled forward, nearly knocking Vader down on his way to the balcony.

Vader felt the beginnings of an unexpected grin.

Another speeder pulled up beside his.

Adrenalin shot through Vader's veins. His hand strayed to his lightsaber. Was it one of Sidious' spies?

No.

Two people climbed out from the speeder. Vader didn't recognize the woman. She was young, with dark hair piled on top of her head, and wore a black dress with a high collar. Her face was tear-streaked, her eyes shot with red, and she could barely seem to hold herself up. She clung to the arm of the man even after he'd helped her onto the balcony, as if he were the only thing standing between her will to walk and her legs giving out completely.

The man patted her back in a comforting, friendly gesture. He looked upset, too, but grave. His eyes held a quieter kind of grief.

And Vader recognized him.

Bail Organa. Prince Consort and Senator of Alderaan. Delegation member. Rumored Rebel spy.

And he looked just as surprised to see Vader as Vader was to see him.

"Senator Organa, who is—?" The woman inhaled when Vader stepped into the light. He could feel the question screaming from her stare.  _What's wrong with your eyes?_

Vader didn't look away from her, if anything he glared from beneath his brow, his insides roiling with anger.

As if he could sense it, Bail ushered her toward the interior. "It's all right. Why don't you go get your things, Dormé?"

Vader eyed her warily. The look Dormé gave him was saturated with distrust and tinged with fear, but she didn't act on it. Instead she gave him wide berth, her hand brushed the blaster at her hip, and hurried into the apartment.

"I wasn't expecting to find anyone here…" Bail said, approaching Vader with caution.

"Neither was I."

Bail's eyes darted to where Artoo waited in Vader's shadow, then to the suitcase in his hands. Vader could almost taste his suspicion.

"Where are you taking Senator Amidala's things?"

Vader bristled. "Nowhere of your concern."

"It is my concern if it's…" Bail's gaze sharpened with recognition. "I remember you. You were in the Senate Building."

Vader had no reason to deny it. Few people could put his face to his name, and Senator Organa wasn't one of them.

Bail spoke in response to his silence. "You knew Senator Amidala?"

"Yes."

To Vader's surprise, Bail didn't seem angry at his short response, only more suspicious.

"Why are you here?" Vader asked.

"I should think it was obvious," Bail said. "Senator Amidala's handmaiden, her bodyguard, was distraught when her death was announced in the Senate, right on the heels of—of other upsetting news. She had been staying here while Padmé was on a diplomatic mission. Dormé never believed that she might not return."

Some unspoken thing hid beneath the surface of his words. Bail was leaving something out, that much was obvious.

Vader didn't want to show his hand, but said, "A diplomatic mission that allegedly ended in treason."

Bail raised his eyebrows. "'Allegedly'? That's an interesting choice of words."

Did he suspect Vader's identity? Or think he, too, was part of the Rebellion?

 _That could be useful…_ Vader thought.

But either way, he itched to silence Senator Organa with one decisive stroke of a lightsaber and Dormé besides, to keep his visit an absolute secret, to get in his speeder and leave this place behind.

But Vader remembered the ryoo flowers in Padmé's room and stilled himself.

_Selfish. Liar. Killer._

Bail's brows drew together. "I'm sorry, but…how did you come to know Senator Amidala?"

_I met her as a slave in a junk shop._

"I've known her since we were children. We met during the invasion crisis," Vader said, uncomfortable with sharing an honest piece of history. "But we were only recently reacquainted…"

That much was true, at least.

Bail's interest seemed piqued. "That's quite a long time to go without seeing a friend."

"Yes." Vader eyed him cautiously. "I'd missed her…"

But something trustworthy must have shown in his face, because Bail's suspicions ebbed. He blinked, as if seeing Vader for the first time. "I'm sorry, what was your name?"

"Kitster Banai," Vader said—the first name that came into his head.

_Unconvincing._

Bail certainly didn't look like he believed him. "I don't recall Senator Amidala mentioning ever anyone by that name in association with the invasion crisis."

"Like you said, it had been a long time," Vader said.

Bail frowned.

Vader remembered himself. "And to lose her to the Empire was…"

Bail stared at him intently. "To the Empire…Do you know why she was killed?"

Vader nodded mutely.

Bail's eyes narrowed. "Do you know—"

"I know about everything, Senator Organa," Vader said. "I know what Padmé was trying to do when the Empire caught her. I know about Scarif. I know about Stardust."

Bail's eyes grew larger. "How could you know about—?"

"And, if you'll permit me, I would like to join you On the Water in her place," Vader finished.

Bail paled with shock.

Artoo whistled, eyeing them both.

Bail spoke at last, "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't know what you're—"

"Senator Organa?" Dormé returned, carrying a suitcase of her own. "Is everything all right?"

She paused, looking from Vader to Bail to Artoo, hand resting at the weapon on her belt. Bodyguard, Bail had called her.

_What are you looking for, Senator Organa? And why did you bring protection?_

Bail nodded with a swallow. "Yes, Dormé."

Dormé moved swiftly to the speeder, not taking her eyes off Vader for a moment.

"You can trust me, Senator Organa," Vader said quietly.

"With what? I'm sorry, Kitster," Bail said. "You must be mistaken—"

Vader took a step. "I can prove it to you."

Bail's distrust was back in full force, but there was something there else to.

Optimism. Hope. The urge to believe the very best in people.

Lethal inclinations.

Bail's eyes flickered from Vader to Artoo. "Where are you taking her droid?"

Vader tilted his head. "What droid? I'm sorry, Senator Organa. You must be mistaken."

Bail let out a frustrated breath, but Vader could sense the debate intensifying within him.

"If we do meet again," Bail said, his mind swimming in apprehension, "make sure you have him with you."

It was a hint, that much was clear, but pointing towards what, Vader didn't know.

"Kitster," Bail said as he boarded his speeder. He hesitated and added, "May the Force be with you."

Those words, like any relic of the Jedi Order, were forbidden in the Empire.

But the last time someone had said them to Vader, he had been ten, nervous and hopeful, and a Jedi Master had used them to wish him luck in a race that would help a Queen…

Vader was too stunned to say anything back as he watched Bail's speeder depart, but he shook it off quickly, dark emotions clouding his mind.

Bail may not have trusted him much, but he might have trusted him enough.

Perhaps soon, Vader would have something to report to his master after all.

_Selfish. Liar. Killer._

_Silence,_ Vader thought.


	11. A Lost Cause

**Chapter 11**

**A Lost Cause**

Padmé had packed a bag.

One filled with the necessities she had at hand for a potential escape. There wasn't much, but it would have to be enough in an emergency.

 _It's only a precaution_ , she thought, in case her uncertain reliance on Vader proved too vain or too dangerous to continue. An uncomfortable reality intruded into her thoughts.  _It may be already._

But Padmé couldn't let go of the feeling that if Vader were going to hurt her, he would have by now.

_Besides, there's still the chance he might bring Artoo with him when he returns._

The rational part of Padmé's mind admonished her for trusting Vader with something so important.

_And yet…_

Vader brightened when she was warm to him and grew distant when she was cold. He laughed when she laughed and listened closely when she spoke and seemed to like her company enough to offer her comforts that Padmé hadn't dreamed of having in the Empire's custody.

It was difficult, in those moments, not to put some level of trust in him.

Then Padmé would remember the screams after Scarif, remember watching the Jedi temple burn, and feel sick with herself for having any measure of faith in Vader.

Her eyes strayed to where her bag was hidden beneath her bed, shrouded by her coverlet. Padmé exhaled slowly, wishing for something to silence the conflict in her mind.

As if in response, a voice floated up from downstairs. Its words were too distant to make out, but there was no mistaking who it belonged to.

Hurriedly, Padmé pulled on a thick blue robe over her nightgown and followed the voice downstairs.

"Master Vader, shall I bring the shurra fruit, too?"

She paused at the base of the steps, trying to place the speaker.

"Yes," Vader said, "and the manta pears."

As she walked into the kitchen, Padmé was greeted by the strangest sight.

Darth Vader, carrying two crates overflowing with vegetables, bread, fruit, and cheese, trying to balance them. She started to smile.

But she didn't see Artoo anywhere.

The smile fell.

A protocol droid with golden coverings shuffled past her on his way to the veranda.

"Oh! Pardon me, miss," he said.

Vader looked up at her and lost his hold on the crates.

Padmé flinched against an oncoming crash, but none came. With a gesture of Vader's hand, the boxes stopped mid-fall and floated back up, landing neatly on the countertop.

Vader cleared his throat and failed to look unruffled. "I probably should've done that first."

Padmé laughed gently at his disarming embarrassment. The protocol droid returned, walking past her with another armload of goods.

"What is all this?" Padmé asked.

"Well, you needed food," Vader said.

She could only blink at the veritable market laid out in her family's kitchen. "You brought so much."

"There was a festival in Theed," Vader said. "They had a lot to sell."

Carefully, Padmé approached, taking a green fruit from a crate more than halfway full of them.

"Shurra fruit. It's my favorite," Padmé said. A strange thought occurred to her. "Did you read my mind?"

"I can't read your mind," Vader said.

Padmé raised an eyebrow, unsure if she believed him or not. "Are you sure about that? Sometimes it feels that way to me."

"I can read…your mood, some of what you're feeling," Vader explained. "I can tell when you're close."

At the very least, it was good to know that her thoughts were safe, though the truth was still disconcerting. Padmé turned the fruit over in her hand.

"It's mine, too," Vader said after a moment.

"What is?"

"The shurra fruit," Vader said. "It was the first thing I'd ever tasted from Naboo."

Before Padmé could respond to his admission, a voice rang out from behind her, "Yes, Miss Padmé is here. Calm down, Artoo!"

"Artoo!" Padmé dropped the fruit back in its box and rushed over as Artoo rolled into the kitchen. She beamed at Vader over her shoulder and knelt. Artoo circled her with a cheerful whistle.

"Yes, I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me," she said.

Padmé caught a glimpse of Vader watching her from where he leaned against the counter, a quiet smile on his face.

She looked away with a surprising flutter in her chest, one she didn't want to identify.

Artoo rolled away, toward the interior of the lake retreat.

"Where are you going? You don't have permission to go in there!" the protocol droid said, following after Artoo. "Come back here and do as you're told. Oh, idiot!"

"Nice to see them getting along," Vader said.

"Thank you," Padmé said and stood, "for bringing him."

"Of course," Vader said, the ghost of his smile still lurking on his face. It fell away when he added, "But he can't stay."

"I expected as much, Lord Vader," Padmé said, covering her disappointment with a return to formality.

"It just wouldn't be—"

"Vader," Padmé said, "I understand."

It didn't matter if Artoo left, as long as he came back again.

The protocol droid wandered back into the kitchen. "Master Vader, I just don't understand that Artoo Deetoo. If you ask me, he causes too much trouble—"

Padmé turned to leave. "Excuse me for a moment."

She hurried away before Vader could stop her, leaving him to listen to his droid's complaints alone.

It didn't take Padmé long to find Artoo outside on the veranda. He whistled in greeting.

"Yes, I really am all right," Padmé assured him. She rubbed her arms through the fabric of her robe. "I'm being treated better than I imagined I would be, at least."

Artoo bleeped.

"You like him?" Padmé said with a shake of her head. "Good with droids?"

Artoo gave an affirmative chirp.

Padmé knelt at Artoo's side, new anxiety thrumming in her veins. "Artoo, listen carefully, you can't stay, but I need Vader to bring you back. Whenever you're here, I have something I need you to do. It must be completed as soon as possible."

She spoke quickly, explaining the problems with the study computer as best she could.

"Do you think you can repair it?" Padmé asked.

A beep of agreement.

Padmé felt shaky with hope. "Vader cannot know. It's vital he remains unaware of this."

Artoo beeped again, with insistence.

"What?" Padmé frowned. "What is it?"

Artoo chirped a short answer and rolled back, radar eye darting down the veranda. He shook his head.

 _Not now,_ the gesture seemed to say.  _Not safe._

Padmé nodded, her heart beating very fast. "Go. Hurry."

Artoo did as she said, rolling away toward the interior of the retreat.

They had to repair the computer soon, because Artoo had something to show her.

Something from Obi-Wan.

Something from the Jedi.

* * *

"—and doesn't listen to a thing I say, even when I tell him exactly what you've instructed. That Artoo Detoo is still a menace, Master Vader. He hasn't changed a—"

"Threepio," Vader said, unable to listen a moment longer to the unending complaint. "It's all right. I can tolerate it."

"Well, I certainly can't." Threepio sighed dramatically. "Sometimes I just don't understand human behavior."

He walked away.

_No doubt looking for Artoo._

Maybe it had been a mistake to tell Threepio to look after him, but it had confirmed something that Vader had suspected since Padmé's apartment. Artoo didn't have either of them in his memory anymore.

Sidious had wiped his mind.

Vader's loathing intensified. Sidious hadn't been content with destroying Anakin Skywalker's spirit, he had tried to obliterate the very memory of him, too.

Qui-Gon, Artoo, Obi-Wan, Padmé…

_Mom._

Threepio was the only one who knew.

Vader had taught the droid a new name for his maker, but he hadn't had the heart to destroy his last connection to his childhood, even if he might as well have.

It had been hard enough to keep Threepio from addressing Padmé with any familiarity.

_Padmé._

She was troubled, Vader could feel as much, and it left him troubled in turn.

 _I should leave her be,_ Vader thought, but his eager, treacherous feet carried him out after her.

Padmé leaned against the balustrade, plucked a flower, and tossed it into the lake. She watched it float for a long moment, some heavy emotion welling from within her.

It was a private moment. Vader turned to go.

"Vader?"

And immediately stopped. "Yes?"

Padmé's hesitation felt like a physical weight in the Force.

"It's nothing," she said at last.

She was lying. Something was bothering her, and deeply.

 _The Rebel meeting?_ Vader wondered, the encounter with Senator Organa fresh in his mind.  _I should ask her. Learn the truth._

But the idea of burdening Padmé with it, of reminding her of the core of their animosity…

Vader couldn't bring himself to do it.

_Not yet._

Not when he felt so close to her.

"I used to come here for school retreat," Padmé said. "We'd swim to that island every day. I love the water."

Vader took an uncertain step closer at her words.

"When I was Queen, it was difficult to come back, but as a senator, it was almost impossible," Padmé said. "We were always locked in debate, never agreeing on policy or procedure. There were so few things I was able to get done…"

Vader leaned beside her, and for once his presence didn't seem to have a negative effect. If anything, Padmé was almost calm. His gaze drifted over the softness of the hair at the nape of her neck, to the slope of her shoulder where her robe had slipped down, and back to her eyes. The most arresting part of her.

"And there was so much I wanted to do," Padmé said with a frown. She looked up at Vader, as if searching for understanding.

"I know what you mean." Vader stared at the stars on the water.

It seemed like he could see them all.

Padmé let another flower fall. "We hardly ever agreed…"

"The system was broken. It's better now," Vader said. "There's no more deliberating. Only action."

Padmé's emotions were indecipherable. "Do you really believe that?"

Vader shrugged. Belief had little to do with it.

"Then how can you say—?" Padmé shook her head. "Under the Republic, we fought against oppression. The Empire—"

"Is forthright that it has little else to offer."

"It's glorified tyranny," Padmé said. "That's not the same thing as honesty."

"Maybe it's close enough," Vader said.

Disbelief and disgust mingled in her expression.

"The Republic lied to you, Senator Amidala," Vader said. "It preached democracy and gave us corruption. It promised solutions and only caused their delay. You told me as much, remember? The Empire has no such delusions about itself."

"What does that matter? We've gone from a slim chance of changing things, to no chance at all. What about fighting? Trying?" Padmé said. "What about what you said on Malastare?"

Vader set his jaw, frustrated with himself, and Padmé seemed to take his silence as a refute.

She drew back. "I thought there was the smallest chance that we believed in the same things. I know now that I was wrong. Whatever you said about slavery in the galaxy—"

"Slavery?" The word tapped into the core of Vader's hatred, his fear. His expression grew dark. "What is this about? A lost battle fought by idolizing that boy—"

Padmé grew angry. It was catching. "I didn't tell you about Anakin for you to bring him up in some attempt to—"

"You turned him into a martyr. Built him up in your mind as the innocent face of a war that died with the Republic. Do you know what Anakin Skywalker is now?" Rage cut a swath through Vader's mind.  _What are you doing?_  But he paid the question no mind. He was consumed with hatred of his former self. Jealousy of his former self. Shame of his former self. It scorched him. "He's a dead thing. A lost cause—"

Padmé's fury spiked. "He was my  _friend_ —"

Vader hit his boiling point, closing in on her space. "And you know as well as I do that he is never coming back!"

The callousness of his words bit into her. Padmé drew herself back as far as she could, her back pressed to a pillar. She was filled with fear, her eyes dark pits of it, and she was hurt.

So hurt.

Guilt washed through Vader in an oil-slick wave. He reached for her shoulder. "Padmé, wait—"

He wanted to stop her, but she slipped away, running past him, and disappeared into the retreat.

* * *

_Martyr. Dead thing. Lost cause._

The implicit meaning was clear.

Forget the enslaved. Forget the Republic. Forget the fight.

Padmé pulled her japor snipped from its safe place in the wooden jewelry box on her vanity. She ran a finger over the careful carvings on its surface.

_I made this for you. So you'd remember me._

Even if she were to strip away every bit of meaning that she'd attached to Anakin's memory, she was still left with the ghost of a boy who had idolized her. The ghost of someone she had failed, even in death.

That was something she couldn't let go, not even if she wanted to.

Vader might as well have asked her to forget her own name.

Padmé clasped the snippet around her neck. Vader's protocol droid had left the clothing he'd promised her in a large suitcase outside of her door. She'd dragged it inside and redressed as if it were armor, yanking on her boots.

Padmé had packed a bag.

And she wanted nothing more than to leave with it.


	12. Conviction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: So sorry for the lateness of this chapter! Next one will be up sooner :) There's excessive canon dialogue in this chapter, penned by George Lucas. Credit where credit is due.

**Chapter 12**

**Conviction**

"Honorable representatives of the Republic, I come before you after what should have been a glorious victory," Padmé said. Her knuckles were almost as white as her makeup where she gripped the edge of the Senatorial repulsorpod. "Despite your refusal to interfere in the Trade Federation's invasion of Naboo, we managed to regain control of our planet."

Murmurs swept through the cavernous Senate chamber. Padmé lifted her chin when a representative from the Commerce Guild jeered. Even with a trial against the Federation moving ahead in the Supreme Court, so many didn't believe her.

 _They don't want to,_ Padmé thought.  _They can't believe that something like this could happen in the Republic._

"Order, Senators, we shall have order!" Mas Amedda called, but his shouts did little to silence the growing din.

Chancellor Palpatine himself stood. "Please, my friends. The floor belongs to Queen Amidala of the Naboo."

Slowly, the clamoring ceased.

Palpatine addressed Padmé, "Your majesty, please continue."

"Thank you, Supreme Chancellor," Padmé said. "In the aftermath of our victory, new tragedy occurred. A boy flew into battle for my planet, and made our victory possible. I recognize him today as a hero for my people. This boy was to become a Jedi, to continue keeping peace in the Republic, and now his chance is gone, after such a short time of having a chance at all. He was a slave—"

Cries of protest and denial rang out.

"Impossible, your majesty," Senator Ainlee Teem said. "The Republic's anti-slavery laws are clear—"

His interjection was drowned out by the opposing sides.

Padmé only caught snippets of their words.

"Listen to her! The Hutts—"

"Where is the  _evidence_?"

"The child is lying!"

Padmé did not wait for Palpatine to silence them. She raised her voice above theirs.

"Senators, I know that I am young, and I am an outsider to your process here. But I serve the galaxy, just as you do. Who are we to sit quietly and tolerate a system that profits from the ownership of our fellow intelligent beings? A system that separates mothers from their children?" Padmé called out. "Senators, I have seen this system firsthand and I can attest to its evils."

Palpatine gave her an encouraging smile, and somewhere in the wings, she knew Obi-Wan watched.

Padmé hesitated and said, "I propose a vote to begin Republic intervention in the Hutt-controlled systems of the Outer Rim."

There was an uproar of clashing voices, opinions being flung left and right, but Padmé held her head high.

They could not deter her from getting justice for Anakin.

Nothing ever could.

* * *

Out in the halls of the Senate, Padmé fumed, resisting the overwhelming urge to pull off the weight of her elaborate headdress, lock herself in one of the more comfortable looking offices, and have a good, long sob. Tears were already posing themselves to ruin her makeup. But she had to be strong. For Naboo, for Anakin, and for herself.

Her handmaidens marched behind her in a somber troop, Captain Panaka taking up the rear. They cut a swath through the crowds of murmuring, staring senators.

"I'm so sorry, your highness," Sabé said at her right.

"I should have expected it," Padmé said. "The Senate did not extend its sympathies to one planet in danger, why did I believe they would help dozens more?"

Sabé shook her head, the beads in her hair tinkling with the motion. "I cannot understand why they rejected your proposal."

"I can."

Padmé turned.

"I'm sorry, but I can't help but overhear." A man with a goatee and a velvet cape stepped forward. "Bail Organa, Viceroy of Alderaan, your majesty."

Padmé held out her hand for him to take.

"That was an impassioned speech, your majesty," Bail said.

"Thank you, Viceroy," Padmé said.

"But the Senate is not welcoming to outsiders," Bail said. "Particularly ones so young."

Padmé tried not to grimace. "So I've discovered."

"Many have been playing this game for decades, and not all planets share Naboo's belief in the wisdom of youth. But I do," Bail said. "How many years are left in your term, your majesty?"

"Three, Viceroy."

Bail nodded. "I am here to learn from my predecessor before assuming Alderaan's seat in the coming months. When your term is up and you're old enough, have you considered doing the same?"

"I had not."

But Padmé could not deny the pull. To be listened to in the Senate, rather than heard. To stand before them as more than just an outsider, but as one of its own, working within to make change on a galactic scale.

"These are trying times. The Senate could use more people like you," Bail said. "Those who know what they believe in, and who are willing to fight until the end for it."

* * *

Warm night air felt like ice on Padmé's wet cheeks, but it was more than the external things that chilled her. The hurt from her argument with Vader seemed to grow icier with each step, a frozen lump in her chest.

_He'll never bring Artoo back now._

The chance of fixing the computer was gone, and of learning Obi-Wan's message.

Padmé cursed herself for being so foolish.

She had taken her risk, but the time had come to be practical.

There was no time to delay.

Padmé walked out onto a wide balcony, away from the comfort of her bedroom. The double doors were ajar, and the light spilling out was warm against the cool tones of the night.

She shouldered her bag and stared at the shadow of the hills, a dark purple nothing on the horizon.

_This will not be easy._

It didn't matter.

Exposing Stardust mattered.

The Delegation. The Rebellion. The Jedi. Those were the things that were truly important.

Even still, something niggled in the back of her mind.

_Vader._

Padmé sighed. She had a connection with him that she didn't understand, but that had been there since she had first seen him on the bridge. It wouldn't let her be, no matter how many times she tried to dismiss it, urging her not to give up on him yet.

* * *

As he stalked through the field to the Specter-Chaser, Vader still raged.

He looked back at the lake with fire in his eyes.

Reflected on the water, amid the moons and stars, were the lit windows of Varykino. They rippled there as if part of the night sky, some undiscovered constellation, and Padmé had never seemed so far away.

Vader wrenched his gaze away.

Artoo and Threepio went ahead of him into the ship. They were quiet, as if they could tell how little he wanted to speak.

Vader shut the hatch with more force than he'd meant to, and the hydraulic groaned in complaint.

He closed his eyes. Another problem to fix.

Brushing past the droids into the cockpit, Vader sat and flipped the switches for takeoff on reflex. He paused, his hands clenched on the steering device.

He had been stupid. He had ruined everything.

And Padmé—

_She doesn't understand._

It was easy enough to sing the virtues of the Republic when you weren't one of the ones it had left behind.

And yet…

_We've gone from a slim chance of changing things to no chance at all._

The words wouldn't fade.

He had hurt her, and he hated himself for it.

_I could make her understand._

Vader seemed to forget how to breathe.

"Master Vader?" Threepio said. "Artoo is wondering when we're taking off."

Vader inhaled and released his tight grip on the steering device. "We aren't taking off."

Artoo beeped inquisitively when Vader stood, heading back to the hatch.

"Well, he is under a lot of stress, Artoo," Threepio said.

"Stay with the ship," Vader said. "I'll come back."

* * *

Padmé froze on the balcony, halfway through one last look at the retreat, when the sound of booted feet rang up again from the lower levels. Her bag dropped from her hands.

Heart pounding, she stepped back into her bedroom.

The handle of her door began to turn.

And stopped.

There was a moment of hesitation, and then the softest knock.

Padmé willed her voice to be strong and said, "Lord Vader?"

"I want to speak with you."

In the shelter of the retreat, it felt as if it were years ago, and it was Sola at her bedroom door after some minor spat.

But the delusion broke quickly. This was Darth Vader, and Sola had never said such awful things.

"And I don't want to speak with you," Padmé said.

"It won't be long."

Padmé closed her eyes, one hand resting against the door. Carefully she opened it the barest sliver, and met Vader's yellow eyes.

The look in them was awful—anger, pure terror, and twisted gratefulness. Padmé couldn't meet his gaze.

She spoke to his chest instead. "Whatever it is you've come to say, I trust you know I'm not interested in hearing it."

Vader leaned forward. "Yes, but—"

Padmé caught the door with her foot before he could open it. "Furthermore, if you're here to debate me again, I have no interest in continuing this conversation—"

"You're always so serious," Vader said.

Padmé raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

Vader looked pained, as if searching for the right words. "Padmé, I didn't mean to frighten you."

It wasn't an apology, but his eyes still searched hers for forgiveness of some kind. Forgiveness she wasn't ready to give.

"But I did. And I know that I still do," Vader said, an unsettling tremor of emotion creeping into his voice.

One she wanted to soothe.

 _I can't_.

"I can feel it, every time you look at me," Vader said, pressing a hand to the door.

Padmé inhaled and held it fast, their palms barely separated by the inch of wood. He was so close. Too close. She could see the fissures of red in his irises. She could smell his sun-warmed scent. Her heart felt like it was going to leap from her chest and every white flash of his teeth startled her anew.

"The closer I get to you, the worse it gets," Vader said, leaning in. "The way you look at me, as if I would ever hurt you. Even if I…"

A fuzzy memory in mind from the  _Annihilator_ ran through Padmé's mind _,_ of being carried to the medical bay, her cheek on his shoulder, nausea piercing through dizziness, Vader holding back her hair…

"If I'm imagining this, please tell me," Vader said.

It was all Padmé could do not to shrink back from the way he was glaring, but she knew it wasn't meant for her.

But what he'd said was.

She let go of the door.

Hope softened the harshness in Vader's stare.

Padmé crossed her arms protectively over her chest.

"You terrify me," she admitted quietly.

Vader looked to the floor with a nod. "I don't want to."

That struck her.

"After everything that's happened," Padmé said, "how could you not?"

Silence settled over them, heavy and dense.

Vader exhaled. "Padmé, I came back because…I have to tell you something."

"What?" Padmé said.

"It's me. I'm…" His brow furrowed, and he swallowed. "I mean, I used to be…"

Vader looked very ill. His eyes were shadowed and shiny. He was trembling.

Concern settled over Padmé despite herself. "Vader?"

"I can't," he said with a shallow breath, the words almost inaudible but for the shape his lips made. "I'm sorry."

And it was that word that made Padmé step out of her bedroom.

"What is it?" Padmé asked, a crease between her brows.

"Nothing," Vader said at last. He had the strangest look on his face. "Ghosts."

The fine hairs on Padmé's arms stood on end.

Padmé inhaled, taking back her formal tone. "Lord Vader, I don't want to make my situation worse—"

"You won't," Vader said. "I promise you."

His conviction startled her. But he hadn't seen her packed bag on the balcony. She had to think rationally.

"We should make an agreement," Padmé said. "Whenever you're here, we won't discuss the Republic, or the Empire, or anything that could prove inflammatory."

"No."

Padmé was taken aback.

"That isn't what I want. I don't want you to be anything less than yourself." Vader's eyes, twin suns, stared down at Padmé with unexpected depth.

She shivered at the strange tension between them, a tingle shooting through her chest. "Isn't that what got me into this in the first place?"

Vader nearly smiled, careful and relieved. It made Padmé's heart pound.

"In any case, I doubt Emperor Palpatine would agree with you," Padmé said.

Vader's look darkened. "I don't care about the Emperor."

Padmé tried to hide her surprise. She spoke softly, "If you don't care about the Emperor, then what do you care about?"

* * *

_I care about you._

But Vader could not say it. Not yet.

Anakin Skywalker had died a long time ago, a boy crying uselessly into the desert night. That name no longer had any meaning for him.

But it did to Padmé.

And that was the reason for his gnawing guilt.

She was everything and he was nothing. If Padmé was the sun, Vader was the dimmest moon in her orbit, desperate to catch a bit of light. She wasn't what he cared about, she was all he cared about. For the first time in so long…

And he had nearly lost her. Again.

What did he care about?

"The people that I love," Vader said at last.

Padmé looked at him with gentler eyes, but her face fell.

"What's wrong?" Vader asked.

Padmé was quiet, and spoke more to herself than to him when she said, "My parents must be so worried."

Vader felt the wrenching ache of loss.

_Ani? Oh, I'm so proud of you, Ani…I worried…_

"Tell me about them," Vader said.

Padmé hesitated, moving down the hall away from the privacy of her bedroom. Vader fell into step beside her, and she spoke.

About how her parents had been childhood sweethearts. About how her father had worked in a relief group and taught at a university, and how her mother had been her closest aide in her election as Queen. About how terrified they were for her during the blockade. About how her sister had married so young. It rushed from her lips in a wave.

And Vader listened.

"Actually, I'd hoped to have a family of my own by now," Padmé said. "My sister has the most amazing, wonderful kids."

Vader felt a stab of envy. "Why haven't you?"

Padmé grew distant. "The galaxy fell apart."

Before he could respond, Vader's commlink beeped.

"Excuse me." Vader strode out to the nearest balcony and brought the commlink to his lips. "Threepio?"

"Master Vader, I'm sorry to bother you, but the Specter-Chaser has been alerted that there is a message aboard your shuttle from the flagship."

Vader closed his eyes in frustration.

_Ricon._

"It has been delivered as 'urgent'," Threepio said.

It had to be about the Rebel network, the meeting, the mysterious phrase. Vader was sure of it.

He was taking too long. Sidious had to be displeased.

"All right," Vader said. "I'll be there soon."

Padmé followed him out. "Is everything all right?"

Her tone was cautious.

"I don't know," Vader said.

She drew a fraction nearer.

"I'm looking for something," Vader said. "A location."

"What do you mean?"

Vader exhaled. If Sidious was outsourcing the task to bounty hunters, the time for hinting at the question was passed. "It's somewhere on the water."

Padmé frowned, utterly confused. But she couldn't be.

"You know," Vader said. "Don't you."

"No." Padmé took a step back. "I don't."

Vader's brow furrowed. "You're lying."

"And if you're trying not to frighten me, this would be a good time to start."

Her words took him by surprise. Vader took a deep breath to calm himself. He turned away and heard Padmé's shaky breath of relief. But something else caught his eye.

"What is that?"

"What is what?" Padmé's voice was wound tight. She knew what he was referring to.

A bag, lying half open in the shadow of a pillar as if hastily abandoned. In the moonlight, Vader could see the top of a water-filtration canteen, a pair of boots, and the gleam of a vibroblade. The realization shook Vader to the core, and brought forth rage like lava.

"You're leaving?"

* * *

_You terrify me._

_I don't want to._

"I was," Padmé said, daring to believe what he'd said was true.

Perhaps the past tense kept Vader's anger contained, but she could see him shaking with it just below the surface.

Vader tilted his head down into a glare. "Why?"

Padmé thought she could feel power building inside him, see the bottomless pit of hatred in his eyes. She fought against her fear.

"Because I'm an Imperial prisoner," Padmé said, "and I wanted to escape."

Vader inhaled, eyes burning brighter.

"But you came back," Padmé said.

Vader's eyes grew larger.

She met his stare. "I changed my mind."

Vader's anger seemed to ebb, but he didn't speak, his jaw set firmly shut.

Padmé spoke, "I understand if there are consequences for—"

"No," Vader said, eyes holding some new conviction. "There won't be consequences now."

Dread trailed its fingers along Padmé's spine. "And later?"

Vader didn't say, he only shouldered her bag, and turned away.

"Vader."

He looked back.

Padmé didn't need an answer. His look said enough.

_As if I would ever hurt you._

Vader drew his hood over his head with a nod of parting, and Padmé knew she'd made the right decision.

Somehow, the impossible had happened. Darth Vader had resurrected her hope.

* * *

Back aboard Vader's shuttle, Admiral Ricon came to life in hologram.

"Lord Vader," Ricon said, pale even as a blue flicker, "we understand you are on a mission for the Emperor, but we humbly request your return to the flagship."

Vader's patience was wearing thin, Padmé's near escape attempt weighing heavily on his mind. "What is it, Admiral?"

"Bounty hunters, my Lord," Ricon said. "They claim to be contracted by the Empire."

Vader narrowed his eyes. "For what purpose?"

"I do not know, my Lord." Ricon swallowed convulsively. "They have Imperial permission to access our records."

"But they don't have mine," Vader said. "Keep them there. I will question them myself."

"Yes, my Lord." Ricon faded away.

And fear edged in on Vader's already swirling emotions.

Whatever the reason Sidious had sent bounty hunters to his ship, they would not find out about Varykino. There was no record. For all anyone knew, Padmé had died during the evacuation.

But as he blasted into hyperspace for the  _Annihilator_ , his mind stormed with hatred and fear, and one thought was louder than all others.

_You will not take her from me._

* * *

_Somewhere on the water. You know._

Padmé did not, but she knew what it sounded like.

_A Rebel code._

Simple, direct, descriptive, how the Rebellion hid things in plain sight and communicated with the Delegation. How Vader had learned of it was the most concerning part, but Padmé knew he'd never tell her.

She ducked into the study and surveyed the minuscule repairs to the computer that Artoo had been able to make before Vader had whisked him away. Wires spliced, fused, and re-attached to one another. It wasn't finished, but it was a start, and she no longer doubted that the little droid would be back. Padmé only hoped that patience would not mean waiting to the point of danger.

_But for now…_

For now she had time. Padmé approached the shelves and retrieved a datapad. She sank into her father's chair and began to write, connections between bases and old codes and snippets of conversations with Bail, Mon Mothma, Yoda, Mace, and Obi-Wan.

Whatever Rebel code Vader was hunting, Padmé wanted to crack it first.


	13. Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: And another delay on my posting schedule! I'm in the messiest section of my original draft, but hopefully I get back up to speed soon. Thank you all so much for reading and for all your lovely comments.
> 
> This chapter includes canon dialogue and some content inspired by Leia, Princess of Alderaan by Claudia Gray.

**Chapter 13**

**Conversation**

"Lord Vader, welcome back," Ricon said, falling into step as Vader left his shuttle.

"Dispense with the pleasantries, Admiral," Vader said. "What's the situation?"

"The bounty hunters, they're going through our records," Ricon said nervously. "They had the proper clearance, sir."

Vader clenched his jaw. "Where are they now?"

"They are on the bridge, my Lord."

"Take me to them."

The bounty hunters paced the bridge as if they belonged there, five in total, armored and fierce, earning distrustful glances from the officers below.

Vader recognized one. The bounty hunter wore Mandalorian armor, a helmet tucked beneath his arm. Scarred and battle-toughened, the original host for the Republic's clone army had a difficult face to forget.

Vader had grown used to seeing it during the war. "Jango Fett."

"Lord Vader." Fett leaned back with a look of surprise. "My, you've shot straight up, haven't you?"

"And you've outlived your usefulness," Vader said.

"Clone troopers, stormtroopers, whatever battle fodder the Empire uses is all the same to me," Fett said. He drummed his fingers against one of the twin blasters at his side. "I have other ways of making a living."

Vader crossed his arms. "What are you doing on my ship, bounty hunter?"

Fett's mouth twisted into a gruff smirk. "You're as pleasant as ever, my Lord."

"And you're as much a waste of my time." Vader was satisfied to feel a spark of fear. "What are you doing here?"

"The Empire put out a message trying to reach the right people," Fett said. "We're the right people."

Vader frowned. "What kind of message?"

"Afraid that's classified, sir," Fett said.

"Not to me."

Fett gave him another patronizing smile. "I didn't stop you from carrying out the Emperor's orders when you were smaller and shriller than you are now, my Lord, and you won't stop me from doing the same if your master—aurgh!"

"Try me," Vader said and began to close his outstretched hand.

Fett's helmet dropped to the floor with a clatter as he grasped at his throat.

Vader held tight. "Tell me, what are the orders the Emperor gave you?"

"Ask…him…" Fett wheezed.

Ricon's nervous timbre broke through, "Enough of this, my Lord,  _please_. I have sent an inquiry to the Imperial Executive Offices. We'll resolve this matter quickly."

Reluctantly, Vader let go.

Fett gasped and cursed, retrieving his helmet.

"My apologies, Fett," Ricon said.

Fett ignored him with a glare at Vader. "I'd advise against attacking a man under Imperial subcontract, my Lord. Makes it look like you have something to hide."

The sensors in Vader's hand pinged in agony as he made a fist to stop his trembling, but the pain was grounding. It put things in perspective.

Vader breathed slowly out, projecting a veneer of calm. "You would be wise not to suggest that again, bounty hunter."

Fett rubbed his throat, but did not retaliate, and Vader tried to keep his terror hidden.

"What's this  _Stardust_ in your records, Admiral?" Fett asked.

Ricon cleared his throat. "That's the Emperor's concern, Fett, not yours."

Vader was surprised when Fett didn't argue.

Ricon seemed to notice as well. "Tell us, what is the purpose of your presence on the  _Annihilator_?"

"Like I told Lord Vader, I'm under Imperial orders," Fett said. "I'm not permitted to say."

"Then I have no reason to remain here," Vader said. Ricon opened his mouth to protest and Vader held up a finger to his face. "You will not waste my time again, Admiral."

Ricon spluttered. "My Lord, please, wait—"

But Vader was already walking away, hating the smugness that emanated from Fett through the Force.

 _They don't know about Padmé. They can't,_ Vader thought.  _And they aren't going to find out._

Staying was more dangerous than leaving, that much was clear.

And he had a mission of his own to complete.

* * *

Vader stepped through the marshes of Wobani with little mind paid to the mud. He kept his hood low over his face as he passed the overcrowded trenches of the labor camp.

Imperial prisoners stood knee-deep in sludge, digging to deepen the pits. For what purpose, Vader did not know.

_Perhaps there is no purpose at all._

Stormtroopers patrolled the lines of workers, armed with menacing electric batons.

Vader tried to keep his mind on the mission, but his eyes betrayed him and returned to the trenches. A small prisoner slipped and fell. The boy could not have been more than ten. He began to push himself up, but collapsed back into the muck, shoulders heaving.

"Get up," a stormtrooper commanded. He raised his baton to bring down on the child's back.

Vader made a fist.

The stormtrooper fell with a rasping cry. His hands scraped pointlessly at his throat. He twitched once, twice, and moved no more.

Vader could feel the workers' eyes on his cloaked back, their curiosity invading his mind.

He caught one of their whispers.

" _Like a Jedi_ …"

Vader bristled at the comparison.

"Halt!" Another stormtrooper followed Vader along the ridge. "This is a restricted area. I said  _halt_!"

There was an electric hum.

Vader whipped back, his hand outstretched. The stormtrooper's baton froze halfway through a downward swing.

The trooper gasped in surprise. "Lord Vader! I-I apologize. I didn't know you were—"

Vader dropped his arm. The baton fell into the mud with a crackle, and went dormant.

A child's scream of pain rang out from the trenches.

_The boy who fell._

Vader bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood.

"My Lord?" the trooper said.

Vader redirected his anger. "Are you going to check my clearance, commander?"

"Of course not, sir," the stormtrooper said.

"Then leave me be."

Rain drizzled over the marshland as Vader marched on. The image of the prisoners was still stark in his mind, the boy's scream still ringing in his ears.

Up ahead, the Senatorial tent came into view.

Vader grimaced at the sight of overturned ration crates at the entrance, stripped clean by hungry locals. Sidious distrusted the few remaining humanitarian efforts on occupied planets. He had not outlawed them yet, but…

_They will not go on much longer._

Thunder rumbled as Vader drew near enough to see inside.

Mon Mothma and Bail Organa stood over a table, speaking in low, conspiratorial tones. They went silent as Vader's shadow filled the mouth of the tent.

Bail inhaled sharply. " _Kitster_? Kitster Banai?"

Vader stepped closer. "Senator Organa."

"What are you doing here?" Bail asked.

"The same as both of you," Vader said, with a glance over his shoulder at the stormtrooper's distant corpse. "Relief work."

Bail seemed puzzled and Mon Mothma gave Vader a scrutinizing look as intense as any Jedi's.

She leaned toward Bail. "This is the one who…?"

"Yes," he said with a short nod. "Yes, this is him. Kitster, this is my colleague, Senator Mon Mothma of Chandrila."

"Hello, senator," Vader said.

Mon Mothma eyed him cautiously and took his hand. "Hello."

"Where is Senator Amidala's Artoo unit?" Bail asked.

"I left him behind," Vader said. He had combed through Artoo's systems, but found no trace of what the Delegates could be searching for. "Have you considered what we discussed on Coruscant, Senator Organa?"

Mon Mothma and Bail exchanged grim looks.

"I have," Bail said.

"What you're proposing," Mon Mothma said with a shake of her head. "I don't know if you understand the risks."

"I understand them perfectly—"

She held up a hand. "The Emperor is tightening his grip. We took him by surprise at Scarif and now every Delegation planet in the Mid-Rim is occupied by a garrison. The Core Worlds will be next. While Senator Organa seems to believe you hold no ill intent due to your friendship with Senator Amidala, I don't know if I can trust you. Not with this. And with Padmé gone, it is my trust you will have to earn."

Vader digested what she said in silence. He did not like the idea of waiting.

 _There are methods other than subterfuge. Quicker ones. Arrest, interrogation, torture_ —It was by no means a short list.

But instead Vader asked, "What can I do?"

"You can make that determination for yourself," Mon Mothma said. "I'm sure you'll find a way."

* * *

Weightless on the surface of the lake, Padmé watched clouds gather for an approaching storm. They felt like an omen.

She took a deep breath and submerged.

The world disappeared into shades of dark and darker blue. Birdsong became silence. Padmé went as deep as she could stand underwater, pushing her arms up to keep herself in place and savoring the pressure on her eardrums. She closed her eyes.

"We were never meant for this," Obi-Wan had said as they'd sped through Coruscant's underbelly, away from the burning temple. "We were keepers of the peace, not generals for war. I can't help but wonder if we played a part in our own destruction."

"No," Padmé had insisted. "Don't say things like that."

Obi-Wan's eyes had been haunted. "But I must…"

Underwater, Padmé's lungs burned for air. She surfaced with a gasp.

Four years on and she could still smell the smoke, still taste ashes on her tongue.

"What were you meant for?" she had asked him.

Her eyes settled on the island on the water, and she remembered. And she knew.

* * *

The air was heavy with a summer storm as Vader entered the lake retreat.

It was too quiet.

_No, she wouldn't have…_

But there had been no light on in Padmé's window, no footsteps coming down the veranda as he docked the boat. Rain-scented breeze blew through the open windows, sending the curtains billowing, and every step he took echoed through the house.

The villa was empty, and Vader couldn't feel Padmé anywhere.

His heart leapt to his throat, making it hard to swallow.

 _I'll find her,_ Vader thought, hurrying back to the dock,  _before the Empire does and I'll take her somewhere safer, where she won't—_

There was a distant splash.

Vader drew his lightsaber.

A white shape floated halfway out to the island, ghostly and immobile.

"Padmé!" Vader shouted.

She did not answer, and went under.

Not thinking, Vader tossed aside his lightsaber, shrugged off his cloak, and dived in.

The coolness of the water bit into his skin as he sank into the depths of the lake. Bubbles erupted from his nose and his lungs begged for oxygen.

Vader broke the surface of the lake and gasped, coughing against the taste of lake water, and swam on.

* * *

Padmé was digging her toes into the rocky sand of the island and wringing the last of the water from her drying hair when she heard it.

Splashing and the spluttering cough of someone unused to swimming long distances.

Padmé turned. " _Vader_?"

He kicked through the water to the shore, pushing back his hair and shaking his arms to rid himself of water.

Padmé covered her mouth, half from shock and half to fight off an unexpected laugh.

Vader stopped still, rubbing his arms through his soaked tunic. "Padmé, you're…"

"What are you doing out here?" she asked when he failed to finish.

Vader stared at his feet, flushed from his swim. Something leapt at the base of her rib cage when he looked up and said, "I could ask you the same question."

"I have other things to do than sit in my room," Padmé said. "Do you really think that's all I do when you're gone?"

Vader shook his head. "No, you wouldn't."

Padmé looked him over. "You should have taken those off."

Vader's eyes grew larger. "What?"

"Your boots."

"Oh." Vader reached down to tug at them until they pulled free. He turned one upside down and water rushed out. His mouth turned up into a self-deprecating smirk. "I never was much of a swimmer."

"And yet you swam all the way out here, fully clothed, on the eve of a storm." Padmé sat on the sand, combing her fingers through her hair. She still wanted her answer.

Tentatively, Vader sat beside her. "I thought you might be in trouble."

Padmé wanted to brush off his concerns, but found she couldn't.

_Not after the last time he was here…_

"You were out in the middle of the lake and I thought that you…" Vader stopped, as if embarrassed.

"I'm fine," Padmé said kindly.

"I know." Vader frowned. "I was just afraid…"

_Afraid of what?_

That she'd tried to escape again?

Padmé felt a flutter of nerves.  _Not yet._

 _"_ And I shouldn't have been," he said.

"I don't know if that's something you can help." She lay back, staring up at the clouds rolling in. A few shafts of sunlight peered through and the sand was warm under her back.

Vader looked silently out at the lake.

Padmé turned on her side to face him. "Can I ask you something? It might sound strange."

He nodded.

Padmé took a deep breath. "How old are you?"

Though he looked surprised, Vader answered, "Twenty-one last month on the standard galactic calendar. Still twenty by my home planet's."

Padmé felt like she'd been gutted.

_Twenty._

She knew she should have been shocked, imagining a teenage boy carrying out the crimes that he had, but instead felt a twisted sympathy. She knew what it meant to be a child fighting a war.

_On the other side._

"You're…" Padmé stared at him with new eyes. She had suspected his age of course, but to have it confirmed was something else entirely. "You're so young."

Vader was indignant. "I'm not that much younger than you."

Padmé raised her eyebrows. "I didn't say you were."

Vader exhaled and lay back beside her. "You implied it."

Though separated by at least a foot, Padmé felt a quiver of awareness with him at her level. The texture of the sand and pebbles were rougher against her skin, the feeling of her foot sliding against her calf was an electric shock. And her eyes kept returning to him.

He seemed to sense her staring and looked at her with a challenge in his eyes. "Can I ask  _you_  something?"

Thrown by his playful tone, Padmé nodded.

"How old were you when you got into politics?"

"Eight," she said.

Vader drew a swirl around a pebble in the sand with his finger. "And when you first ran for office?"

Padmé narrowed her eyes, curious of what he was getting at. "Eleven."

"And when you had your first kiss?"

"What?" Padmé laughed. "I don't know."

"Sure you do, you just don't want to tell me," Vader said.

Padmé pushed herself up on an elbow. "You said you couldn't read my mind."

"I can't," Vader said. "I can hear it in your voice."

"All right." Padmé sat, staring down at him.

Vader gave her an expectant look.

"I was twelve," Padmé said. 

There was the strangest flicker in his eye. It sent a jolt of terrified suspicion to her bones, one that demanded to be investigated.

"His name was Palo. We were both in the Legislative Youth Program. He was a few years older than I," Padmé went on with a sigh. "Dark, curly hair…dreamy eyes…"

Vader looked back to the sky. "All right I get the picture."

Padmé bit her lip. "What about you? When did you get involved in all of this? The war, the Empire…"

"I was ten when I began my training," Vader said.

Padmé was confused. "Training?"

"Dueling with a lightsaber, using the Force," Vader cast her a sidelong glance, "learning to swim."

"Not very well," Padmé joked.

"Give me some credit. You try learning any correct form after being dropped in the middle of an ocean." His tone was light, but Padmé was horrified.

"Vader…"

"I don't want your pity," he said. "It was my choice to get involved."

Padmé shook her head in disagreement. "Did you really have a choice at that age?"

"Did you?" There was no malice in Vader's voice, only curiosity.

"Yes," Padmé whispered. "I think so."

He stared up again. "I suppose we both did what we were meant to."

"A friend of mine used to say that no one is meant for war," Padmé said, choosing her words carefully. "That it makes us forget who we are unless we go back to where we began. That war is the pollution of meaning."

"That suggests anything means anything in the first place," Vader said.

"You use the Force," Padmé said, thinking of the Jedi. "Doesn't that mean you believe everything means something?"

Vader shrugged and lifted his hand. The shell of a freshwater mollusk floated toward him from the shoreline.

Vader caught it and sat up, tossing it back into the water. "I don't know."

Padmé disliked seeing him so melancholy. She inhaled. "You know you have to tell me, too."

Vader shook his head. "Tell you…?"

She could have rolled her eyes. "You know what."

The look he gave her was as if she'd asked him to shoot himself out an airlock. "No."

Emboldened by how thrown he was, Padmé dared to push. "I told you. It's only fair."

Vader seemed frustrated, but forced a smile. He inched a fraction closer.

Padmé went still. There were droplets of water caught in his eyelashes. Her chest felt constricted.

Vader's eyes darted to her mouth and he whispered, "I haven't."

"Oh," Padmé breathed.

He pulled back, amused. "You're surprised."

"No, I'm—Well, yes," Padmé admitted.

"Why?" Vader asked.

What could she say? Because of his age, because he wasn't a Jedi, because he was beautiful? All terrible, presumptuous answers in their own way.

She settled on the most neutral one she could find. "Because it's very easy to be surprised by you."

Vader seemed to like that very much.

* * *

Vader had offered to bring the boat to the island with the Force, sure he could manage it, but Padmé had objected.

"I want to swim," she had said, and added at his look of disbelief, "I love to swim."

Vader had not and did not, but he did want to feel closer to her. So he followed the shape of her, a whip-quick phantom, through the water as if she were a rainstorm on Tatooine.

He felt steadier as he climbed back onto the dock, but as Padmé pushed herself up and stood dripping beside him, Vader forgot how to breathe.

Soaking wet, the fabric of her underdress had turned to little more than a thin film, clinging to every bit of her it touched. Vader looked anywhere but her, flooded with heat.

"What…" Padmé inhaled swiftly, her question stillborn, and crossed her arms.

When Vader found he could look at her, he kept his eyes locked on her face.

Padmé pushed her hair behind her ears. "You have some…"

Vader went still as she gestured at stubborn, wet sand embedded in the material covering his left shoulder.

"Here." Padmé brushed it off, the touch feather light but more than enough to make his heart beat wildly in his ears.

"I don't like sand," Vader muttered.

Padmé's seemed almost amused. "You could have said that when we were sitting in it."

"Well, what I meant was…" Vader had trouble with words around her, but this was something he wanted to get right. "That doesn't matter here. I love it here."

"I do, too," Padmé said. She wavered and added, "You know, I almost missed you."

Vader looked at her with new hope in his stomach.

"Will you stay a while?" Padmé asked.

He knew he shouldn't, but Vader heard himself whisper, "Yes."

What could he do? He would do anything that she asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: You know he had to say it. I had to make him say it. Chapters will continue to be posted at least once a week going forward, more if I'm able :)


	14. The Calm Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Many darlings were killed in the editing of this chapter. Contains some canon dialogue.

**Chapter 14**

**The Calm Before**

"Look at the two of you! Master Vader, you're soaking," Threepio said as he ushered Vader and Padmé into the retreat. The clouds amassing over Varykino rumbled ominously outside. "Hurry, please. I'll light a fire upstairs."

"Where's Artoo?" Padmé asked.

"An excellent question, Miss Padmé," Threepio answered before Vader could speak. "I'll go and find him."

"No, it's all right—" she began.

But Threepio was already leaving, calling as he went, "Artoo? Artoo! Where have you gone?"

"I'm sorry. When I told him he was responsible for Artoo, I didn't know he'd be so…enthusiastic." Vader hesitated. "Do you like him?"

"Yes, very much," Padmé said. "How long have you had him?"

"Four years."

It was partly true.

_Oh, the Maker! Master Ani, you've returned! You're here to rescue us!_

_Oh, I'm so proud of you, Ani…_

Lightning flashed against the windows and the wind whipped up, shaking its way through the villa. Gooseflesh erupted on Vader's skin and a knife of unwanted guilt twisted in his stomach.

Padmé frowned. "You're shaking."

"I'm cold," Vader said.

With a smile, Padmé retrieved a thick blanket from a nearby fainting couch.

Vader swallowed when she drew closer. Her hair smelled like flowers.

"Next time you decide to jump in a lake, you should dress for it," Padmé said as she wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. "You must be freezing."

Vader smiled at her concern. "I'm all right."

Padmé's hands stilled as she closed the blanket at the center of his chest. He took hold of it, and his ungloved fingers brushed hers in a slide of skin against skin.

Vader's breath hitched. His next shiver had little to do with the wind.

Padmé took a step back, dropping her hands, and her presence in the Force was a pulse of surprised warmth. Like a heartbeat.

"I should change." She retreated, the loss of her presence a physical pain. "Meet me on the second level?"

Before Vader could answer, Padmé hurried away, disappearing upstairs and leaving him alone with the howling wind.

* * *

Alone in her room, Padmé exhaled shakily.

Her breathing was too fast, her pulse racing along with it. She leaned back against the door, and closed her eyes.

Had there always been so many  _details_  to Vader?

The smallest things would not stop drawing her attention. The rosy tone of his lips and the creases beside his mouth when he smiled; the breadth of his hands and the length of his fingers; the jumpy way he'd fought to keep his eyes up when she'd climbed onto the dock, and the flushing way he had failed.

 _I'm being observant,_ Padmé told herself as she stripped out of her wet things.  _Keeping an eye on him to keep him away from the study._

But the thought rang false.

Somewhere outside her room, Vader waited for her, and Padmé could not decide if the buzzing in her stomach was from anticipation or dread.

She would not allow it to be the former.

And either way, she had delayed long enough.

Dressed again, but not ready, Padmé opened the door.

Vader stood waiting in the hall. He had shed some of his layers, and wore a dark tunic. The drying fabric clung to his shoulder blades.

Padmé swallowed. "You look warmer."

He turned. "So do you."

Vader took a step. Padmé's chin tilted down as she looked up at him. She was very aware of the exposed skin at her midriff. The urge took her to run her fingers along it, confirm its visibility, and satisfy some inexplicable, tactile need, but she didn't.

Because, of course, that would be ludicrous.

Instead, she brushed past Vader and down the hall, heart hammering in her ears.

"This was always my sister's room," Padmé said, opening a door.

The bedroom was full of warm colors and soft fabrics, disorganized in a way that suggested its owner alone knew everything's place. It looked like Sola's. Padmé felt a twinge of sadness.

Vader went in ahead of her, eyes darting from a wooden wardrobe to the ivy peering in from outside the glass. He stopped by the bed and reached down to press his hand to it.

The ends of his hair were still wet. A bead of water clinging to his skin broke free and trailed away beneath the collar of his tunic. Padmé's eyes followed its path. The flutter in her chest became an ache.

 _Stop,_ she thought.  _Get ahold of yourself._

"Thank you," Vader said. He went the window, looked out, and back to her with a smile. "I've never slept in a place like this."

Though his answer stoked her growing curiosity for him, Padmé smiled.

"You still haven't, Lord Vader."

He grinned, and it pierced her.

"If you're settled then," Padmé took a step back toward the clarity of the empty hall, "goodnight."

"Wait."

Padmé's breath caught, and she stopped, fingertips resting on the handle. "Yes?"

"There was something about a fire."

* * *

Upstairs, in the third level sitting room, the protocol droid's fire burned low in the hearth. Vader passed between twin sofas and leaned over the dying embers with a poker, trying to reignite the flames.

Padmé sat on the edge of a cushion and twisted her fingers in her lap.

The fire crackled back to life. It warmed her skin, but did little to banish the ache from her chest.

Slowly, she let out a breath.

"Master Vader," the protocol droid said, drawing Padmé from her confusion. He wandered inside, carrying a tray set with two steaming cups and a bowl of sliced fruit. His golden coverings glinted in the firelight. "Pardon me. I found Artoo at last."

Padmé's heart thudded with worry.

_Oh no…_

"Downstairs circling around doing who knows what," the droid said. "And there's other news."

Padmé exhaled with relief.

_He doesn't know. He didn't catch him._

"The strangest frequency is emanating from the Specter-Chaser," the droid said. "I don't know what it could be."

"A message?" Vader asked with a frown.

"Possibly. It's difficult to tell with this dreadful weather rolling in."

"All right," Vader said, a tinge of reluctance in his voice. "I'll check to see if it's—"

"I'll go, Master Vader," the droid said, "and I'll bring Artoo along with me. Surely that will keep him focused for once."

Padmé gripped the edge of the cushion so tight she swore it would rip in her hand. This would set her back even further.

"Excuse me, my lady." The droid left his tray on Padmé's side of the sofa, and departed.

Cautiously, Vader sat beside her, leaving a cushion of space between them.

A safe distance away.

Padmé didn't know if that made what she was feeling better or worse.

Vader's eyes flickered over her face and he frowned. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Padmé said.

She reached for one of the cups, but it levitated before she could touch it and floated the last half a foot toward her, the liquid inside threatening to slosh over the edge.

Padmé laughed, unable to stop herself. She plucked the cup from the air before it could spill. "You are ridiculous."

"Or helpful," Vader said.

"I was closer than you!"

"I think that's a point in my favor."

Padmé shook her head and looked down to hide her amusement.

But there was no hiding Vader's. His eyes lit up brighter than the flames.

* * *

"You didn't." Padmé leaned forward with a laugh of disbelief.

"No, no, I did." Vader pushed the sleeve of his tunic up past his prosthetic, revealing a triangle of white scar tissue at his inner elbow. "I still have part of the scar. See?"

Padmé began to reach for it, but stopped before she made contact. "You rode an acklay."

"Well,  _tried_. I wasn't entirely successful," Vader said, pulling his sleeve back down.

Padmé laughed again, a musical sound, and reclined against the sofa back. She had unraveled as the hours passed, leaning in and curling one leg beneath her.

The sight of her like that brought Vader's worst impulses to the surface. He could not stop telling her ridiculous things, because he wanted her to know them. He could not stop trying to get her to laugh. She shone in the Force each time she did, radiant and warm as the firelight on her skin.

A smile hung on Padmé's lips as she speared the last piece of shurra on her fork.

Vader rested his chin on his forearm, drunk with watching her. "Did you dream of power and politics when you were a little girl?"

"No, that was the last thing I thought of," Padmé said. "You did?"

"Well, not exactly…" Vader went quiet, unsure of how to explain.

Politics had never held any draw, but how could power not have appealed to him? Even the barest scrap of it after a life of powerlessness was something to be guarded and celebrated and clung to fiercely.

Padmé was lucky, to have never known that feeling. Vader would not have wished it on anyone.

"You're so different," Padmé said after a moment.

"Than what?" Vader frowned.

Padmé swirled her fork through the empty bowl, not quite looking at him. "What I expected."

"You're not."

Padmé looked up, her eyes almost black in the dim light.

Vader stared directly into them. "You're exactly who I always thought you'd be."

A silent moment passed between them, the kind where nothing needed to be said.

"It must be difficult, having dedicated your life to the Empire," Padmé said, "if it was never what you wanted…What did you want?"

Vader hesitated and took a breath. "I wanted to be a Jedi."

Disbelief bloomed over Padmé's face. "Oh."

"It's true." Vader shifted, uncomfortable.

"I never would have thought that…" Padmé couldn't finish and looked to her lap.

Vader felt like a fool. He had ruined the good mood between them with the truth. Sickness curled in his belly.

Shame.

 _I want you to go to the Jedi Temple. Do not hesitate. Show no mercy._   _Only then will you strong enough with the Dark Side to save—_

"With what you can do," Padmé said cautiously, "why weren't you found by the Jedi Council, selected for training?"

"There was no finding me," Vader said. "I was born in the Outer-Rim."

Familiar sadness crept over Padmé's face, the same kind she had felt on Malastare. As much as Vader wanted to claim it as his, he knew he couldn't. It wasn't meant for him anymore.

"I hate it out there." Vader knew he sounded petulant, even to his own ears, but he couldn't hold the words in.

Padmé furrowed her brow. "But you're based in the Arkanis Sector. Why would you be if you—?"

"That wasn't my choice to make."

The  _Annihilator's_  orbit near Tatooine was a well-earned torture, a reminder of who he had been and what he had done for a chance at what amounted to failure. The ship had not returned to its usual station since the battle above Scarif, and Vader felt nauseous at the thought of going back, and knew he would.

"I must obey my master."

Padmé looked at him with some new emotion, soft on her face and in the Force.

Sympathy.

Vader craved it from her as much as it repulsed him.

He didn't deserve it.

"You can't believe that," Padmé said.

Vader wished he could agree with her.

"Whatever else there is to this, I don't have the right to ask," Padmé said, not hiding the curiosity in her tone. "But I did not fight for eleven years in the capitol to come away believing anyone should have a master to obey. Not even you."

That stole his breath away. Vader's heart nearly burst. "Padmé…"

He wanted to tell her then. Everything. Everything he had done, and had ever been. Everything he'd become.

But a sound made Vader stop.

The unmistakable whir of a Theta-class shuttle.

_No._

Fear flooded his every vein.

It crept into Padmé's voice. "What is that?"

Vader stood and went to the window. Sunrise was grey with the heavy storm clouds, casting scant light on the shuttle landing in the nearby meadow.

Vader could not answer her. He couldn't breathe.

The Empire was at Varykino.


	15. Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I LIVE. Thanks so much to everyone for your patience! Fair warning that Chapter 16 may also be running a couple days behind schedule. Work :/ But I started editing it early and I'm hoping to post ASAP :)
> 
> More canon dialogue ahead which is, as we all know, not mine.

**Chapter 15**

**Consequences**

Vader stood at the window, immobile and unreadable.

Unease filled Padmé at the sight of him tensed as if ready for attack, and at the mysterious visitor outside.

 _There's a ship here_ , she thought with a pounding heart.

But who was in it, and why had they come?

Tentatively, Padmé approached Vader at the window. She reached for his shoulder.

In a flash, Vader caught her hand. Padmé didn't have time to catch her breath before he pulled her behind him and out of the sitting room.

They made a sharp left at the end of the hall. She gasped and narrowly missed knocking into a statue. Padmé tugged Vader's arm, trying to make him slow down. He wouldn't, running on at a merciless speed. They made for the stairs.

"Vader," Padmé said cautiously as he ran down the steps. She clutched his hand, praying she wouldn't trip in the haste.

Vader didn't seem to notice, his grip on her fingers already iron-tight and trembling as they barreled into a windowless hallway on the first level.

"Vader," she said again. "Vader,  _stop_!"

He came to a skidding halt.

Padmé caught herself on the edge of an alcove beside a decorative vase and put a hand to her chest. Her heart raced in an erratic rhythm.

Vader's fingers shook in hers. He dropped his hold with a shudder, breathing heavily.

"What's happening?" Padmé asked when she could finally speak.

"I don't know." Vader's eyes darted over her face with quiet resolve. He seemed to come to a decision. "Stay here. Don't go near the windows."

"Wait—"

Padmé tried to catch his hand, but Vader was already running.

And gone.

She could have screamed in frustration.

_Does he really expect me to just stand here while he—?_

Padmé's breath caught. What could cause Darth Vader so much panic? And hope blossomed in her chest.

_What if it's someone from the Delegation? The Rebellion? Bail. Mon Mothma. Galen. Anyone._

The hope wilted. There was another possibility.

_What if it's not?_

Either way, she couldn't stay inside, unarmed and unwitting, waiting for Vader to come back.

Padmé exhaled slowly, her mind made up.  _I need a weapon_.

Her eyes strayed to the alcove.

That would do.

* * *

The wind picked up and raindrops stung Vader's face as he marched down a muddy embankment toward a clearing at the base of the hills.

His thoughts were murderous.

_Where are you?_

A prickle ran up the back of Vader's neck. A tremor in the Force. He stopped in the center of the clearing and tensed, listening. Reaching out.

Someone was coming.

Rhythmic steps broke through the gentle patter of rain, growing closer every moment.

Vader's hand strayed to his lightsaber.

Lightning flashed as a squad of stormtroopers emerged through the trees like ghosts.

They marched with deadly precision, their white armor speckled with mud and glossy with rainwater. They came to a stop and stood at attention, as if awaiting orders.

_From who?_

A figure in a jetpack descended to their forefront, and Vader saw red.

* * *

 _Stormtroopers_.

Thunder clapped and Padmé pressed her back to the wall out of sight of the window, her chest rising and falling in shock.

A hard lump rose in her throat, the kind that was impossible to swallow around. She shut her eyes, Vader's words coming back to her.

_There won't be consequences now._

Padmé felt cold.

 _I let myself believe that—_ Her eyes prickled, and she took in a sharp breath.

No.

There was no time to be angry with him. Not now. Not yet.

_Not with the Empire here._

* * *

"Lord Vader. Funny meeting you here in the Mid-Rim." Fett whistled, giving the retreat a long once over. "Lovely place."

Vader glared. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question, my Lord," Fett said. "Must be important if you didn't catch the homing devices on your transports. You're losing your touch."

"You followed me." Vader's hand grew tighter on the handle of his lightsaber.

Fett twirled his blasters, a silent threat. "Wobani, Malastare, Naboo…You're a busy man, my Lord."

"Master Vader!"

Threepio gave a frantic wave and Vader's heart dropped.

"Over here!" Threepio said. He and Artoo stood at the back of the squad, trapped by two troopers.

"To be honest, my Lord, I had half a mind not to check this place until I saw that droid of yours coming across the lake," Fett said. "He's a hard one to miss."

"Help us! Oh, please, hurry!" Threepio called. "I told you, Artoo, I told you they wouldn't leave us—"

"Quiet, you," a stormtrooper ordered.

"Never shuts up either," Fett said.

Vader took a step and Fett mirrored him.

Loathing rose in Vader's throat like bile. He could not speak. He couldn't breathe. He could only imagine the satisfaction of crushing Fett's throat.

* * *

Padmé splashed through the garden with unsteady breath. Rain kissed her cheeks and left her grip on the vase's handle slippery. Her skirt whipped around her legs in the wind, the hem muddy. She peered out from behind a topiary.

In the clearing below, Vader faced a squad of stormtroopers, speaking with a man in Mandalorian armor at the head of them.

Padmé hid again with a start and strained to hear what they were saying over the rain.

"Stand aside, my Lord," the Mandalorian said.

"No."

 _Vader_.

Padmé's heart twisted.

The Mandalorian spoke, "Lord Vader, we're under Imperial orders to—"

"Do you think I care?" Vader said.

The biting fury in his voice sent a chill down Padmé's spine.

"Surely you want to know why we're here?" the Mandalorian asked. He took Vader's silence as affirmation and went on, "You executed the senator from Naboo on the Emperor's orders."

"I did."

Padmé nearly dropped her vase. Blood pounded in her ears. She glanced quickly over her shoulder at the dark line of Vader's back and away with a low breath.

"Thing is, there are inconsistencies in your records," the Mandalorian said. "Not to mention your suspicious timing all around with that dioxis leak."

"If you know about the leak, then you know my ITO—"

"Was the latest model and damn near indestructible," the Mandalorian said. "Besides all that, your crew was more than happy to tell me about your disturbing behavior during the affair. More disturbing than usual, that is."

"What are you implying, bounty hunter?"

"I have a theory, you can tell me if it's true," the Mandalorian went on. "You didn't execute that senator, and you're keeping her here as leverage. I think bringing her to the capitol would fetch quite the price, don't you?"

A lightsaber came to life and, Padmé could not help but look through a gap in the topiary.

The red slash of Vader's saber was a scar in the grey of the storm. A relic from a time passed. He paced before the Mandalorian with a predator's gait, barely restrained hatred in every step.

The stormtroopers shifted uneasily.

"None of that, my Lord," the Mandalorian said. He pointed one of his blasters at Padmé's hiding place. "Or it's her I shoot."

Padmé gasped and jerked to the side out of his view just before he fired. A smoldering hold burned in the leaves beside her head.

She broke into a run as the Mandalorian's jetpack ignited, the stormtroopers opened fire, and Vader attacked.

* * *

Fett shot off into the air, but the troopers on the front lines grunted and fell, hit with redirected blaster fire from Vader's lightsaber.

A foolish one charged him with a cry.

Vader threw a hand up and sent him flying into a tree. The stormtrooper struck it with a wet thud, impaled on a branch.

The Dark Side flared through Vader in a heady surge. He swung his saber in an arc, cutting through the nearest stormtrooper's neck and another's midsection. More came, and their fear swirled around him in the Force until he could barely feel his own.

It was dizzying.

Vader made a fist and their blasters flew over his shoulders. He caught a stormtrooper by the throat and sank his lightsaber into the man's chest, dragging it out to disarm his companion. The trooper sank to his knees and clutched the stump of his wrist, shouting. Vader's lightsaber bit into his throat, and the scream ended.

Bodies fell all around him, a seemingly endless sea of white armor in the mud, but not the two that concerned him the most.

 _Fett,_ Vader thought, pushing the nearest stormtrooper into a tree trunk and sinking his lightsaber deep.  _And Padmé_.

Terror had Vader in a stranglehold. He could still feel her, bright and close.

She was alive.

_Where?_

* * *

Padmé ran through the gardens at breakneck speed, holding tight to the vase. Blaster fire echoed along the stone walkways and burst through the hedges. She rounded the corner behind a column and stopped.

There was a massacre in the clearing.

Vader was like a machine, cutting through an endless wave of stormtroopers with cold brutality. Heads rolled from shoulders and torsos from legs. Stormtroopers fell to their knees, strangled by an invisible fist until their lungs gave out. Redirected blaster fire sent them falling in droves. One was suspended halfway up a tree, a branch poking through the center of his chest plate.

The screams above Scarif came back to her with vicious clarity.

This was what her men had seen in their final moments, the cause of their pleas.

This was Darth Vader.

"Over here!" A white armored hand shot around the side of the pillar and grasped at Padmé's arm.

She wrestled free, but the stormtrooper rounded on her, blaster held high.

"Stop right there!"

Before he could fire, Padmé swung and shattered the vase against the side of his helmet.

The stormtrooper fell and rolled down the steps toward the embankment.

Padmé ran after him, scrambling for his rain-slick blaster in the mud.

Another trooper shouted at her, "Hey—!"

She rose with the blaster in hand and pulled the trigger.

Padmé's feet sank in puddles as she ran, firing on the few remaining stormtroopers who had escaped Vader's wrath.

She couldn't see the Mandalorian anywhere in the rain.

"Miss Padmé!"

Padmé blinked. Vader's protocol droid hurried away from the bloodbath, covering his head with his metal arms, Artoo was right on his tail. A stormtrooper chased them, firing.

Her next shot hit the trooper's helmet.

"Get inside!" Padmé shouted.

The protocol droid didn't need to be told twice. "Right away, miss!"

Padmé ran on along the edge of the trees, her blaster at the ready to take out the stray troopers.

There were none.

Vader was almost through.

"Stop!" a trooper shouted. "My Lord, please—ugh!"

Vader's lightsaber sank into his chest. He continued the carnage, taking out two more troopers in a single blow.

 _He's killing them all,_  Padmé thought.

No one from the Empire would be left at the retreat.

_Except for…_

Padmé's eyes drifted over the vulnerable expanse between Vader's shoulder blades and she swallowed. Her blaster hung at her side, a finger hovering near the trigger.

She could do it. She knew that she should.

For the Jedi, the Rebellion, her men, and herself.

The image of Typho and the others standing captive came to the forefront of Padmé's mind. What had happened to them before she was taken away for her interrogation?

_My execution._

But Vader had saved her.

Padmé covered her mouth with her hand, stifling tears.

_I can't._

And she knew that she never could.

Because despite her better efforts, and regardless of what Vader had done on the  _Annihilator,_ Padmé cared for him. For his playfulness and his awkwardness and his earnest, unfiltered adoration. His shameless attempts to please her, and how often he succeeded.

Because she had spent an entire night talking to him, and it had felt over too fast.

Padmé saw the yellow flash of Vader's eyes through the rain.

There was a clap of thunder.

"Hands up, senator."

With a start, Padmé whipped around to see the Mandalorian at her back, his blaster pointed at her chest. And hers to his.

They were at a stalemate.

"Drop your weapon," the Mandalorian said.

Padmé glared. "Drop yours."

"I'm not going to kill you, senator."

"I find that very hard to believe."

"The Emperor doesn't want you damaged."

Padmé frowned.

"You're worth more to me alive than dead," the Mandalorian said. Whip quick, he pulled a second blaster from his belt and pointed it down the embankment, straight for Vader's back. "He isn't."

"Don't," Padmé said. She put on a diplomatic voice. "For your own good. You know that Lord Vader will kill you the moment you try—"

"To fire? Maybe. If he's fast enough," the Mandalorian said. He took a glance toward the clearing where Vader fought the last three troopers. "And he looks a bit busy at the moment, doesn't he?"

Padmé didn't lower her weapon.

"It only takes one hit, senator, even for people like him," the Mandalorian said. "I'm sure Lord Vader could tell you all about that."

"I was going to kill him myself," Padmé said.

"And we both hear the past tense in that sentence. Drop it. Now."

The Mandalorian's grip rested on the trigger, ready to pull, and Padmé saw no other choice.

Slowly, she lowered her blaster to the ground.

"And hands up," he said.

Glaring, Padmé stood and raised her hands to her head.

"That's it."

The Mandalorian chuckled and fired.

"No!" Padmé screamed.

Vader cut down the last stormtrooper and turned, throwing his hand up.

The blaster bolt froze, suspended and trembling, halfway across the clearing.

Padmé let out a breathless laugh.

The Mandalorian stood dumbstruck.

But only for a moment.

He lunged and caught Padmé by her waist, jetpack igniting.

She stepped back, heel grinding into the unarmored toe of his boot before they could take off, elbow colliding with the unprotected fabric beneath his arm.

The Mandalorian grunted as they rose, his grip loosening, and Padmé dangled by one hand.

It was enough.

The bolt flew.

It hit the center of the Mandalorian's chest plate with a cold clang of finality.

With a grunt, Padmé rolled down the muddy embankment to the clearing below. She was up and running before she realized Vader was, too.

They met halfway across the greenery.

Vader caught her by her elbows, hands flying up to cup her face and push back the wet hair stuck to her cheeks, checking her frantically for injury. Padmé found herself doing the same. She clutched his shoulders, hands sliding along his arms in worry.

"Are you all right?" Padmé asked, looking him over, startled by the fear in her own voice. "I thought he was going to—"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Vader said, grip tightening on her arms. "What about you? Are you hurt?"

Padmé shook her head and Vader exhaled. The rain fell harder than ever as his hands smoothed down her slick arms, and she was startled by his warmth. She resisted the urge to lean into it, to soak up the heat of him like sunlight.

But she pulled away, her pulse wild. "We should get inside."

Vader turned her away from the bodies and back toward the villa.

Padmé breathed out slowly, her newfound knowledge weighing heavily on her mind.

_Executed the senator from Naboo…_

Vader seemed to sense it.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked as he closed the door behind them.

Without the howl of the wind in her ears, it felt so quiet.

"Yes," Padmé said. "You worry too much."

"I'm sorry," Vader said.

"No, don't be, it's not—"

"It's just when I'm around you, I—"

Artoo squealed, flying toward Padmé with bleeps of concern, radar eye swiveling over Vader and back to her again in worry.

"It's all right." She knelt at Artoo's side. "We're all right."

Artoo rolled back an inch with a low whistle when Vader turned, distant.

"What is it?" Padmé asked.

"Nothing," Vader said, but he looked troubled.

Padmé stood and caught Vader's mechanical wrist to anchor him there. He took in a surprised breath, soft as a whisper. She swallowed, her thumb caressing the back of his hand, and his index finger ran the length of her palm, hesitant and exploratory. It sent a jolt straight to the center of her.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Padmé asked quietly.

Vader looked up from their joined hands with a furrowed brow. "Tell you what?"

"That you saved my life."

* * *

Stunned, Vader swallowed and looked down. "Because, I…"

He let go of her hand and stepped away. Padmé's eyes were on his back, her question burning in the Force. She wanted an answer.

What could he say? The stark, unvarnished truth?

That he loved her.

That he had always loved her, would always love her. In his previous life, and the one he lived now.

Vader loved her unwavering belief, and fierce conviction, and careful seriousness. Her eyes and her hair and her lips.

Padmé was as much a part of him as he was himself, even now in this fractured existence. He had known from the moment Anakin Skywalker saw her in Watto's shop that their paths would be entwined, somehow, someday. Half of what brought him through an endless slew of crying, sleepless nights under Sidious' tutelage was the subconscious belief that he would see her again.

_Only to terrify her and lie to her and hold her captive._

Even still, meeting her on the bridge was the moment he'd started living again after years as a corpse.

He couldn't go back to that.

The thought in mind, Vader closed the distance between them.

With a soft gasp, Padmé pulled him into her arms and held him close, her fingers making a gentle path through his hair. Vader dropped his cheek to the crook of her neck and his eyes fell shut. His hands brushed the exposed skin of her midsection as his arms encircled her back and it sent a bolt of heat through his veins. He was lost to the warmth of her and the scent of her hair, wrapped in her and her presence in the Force.

The last thing he wanted to do was let go.

But he had to.

"I can't stay," Vader said, pulling back. "I want to, so much, but I—"

"I know," Padmé said.

Cautiously, Vader pressed a palm to her cheek. When she didn't pull away, he let his thumb slide along her jaw and brush her earlobe, fingers curling against the fine hairs on the nape of her neck.

She shivered and leaned closer, as if unconsciously, and his heart careened in his chest.

"I won't be long," Vader said.

* * *

Padmé followed Vader to the door with crossed arms. The rain outside was a bare drizzle.

The protocol droid babbled about his capture, walking ahead of Vader onto the dark veranda. "—and grabbed me right out of the boat! I don't know how we got out of it alive—"

Vader appeared to be listening, but he stopped in the doorway and met her eyes.

"Come back," Padmé mouthed.

He nodded, eyes burning with a silent promise.

_I will._

Padmé inhaled sharply.

Vader frowned.

She covered her shock with a smile and shook her head, but inside she was shaking.

Vader still looked unsure, but gave her another long, yellow look in parting, one that proved she'd been imagining things, and followed the protocol droid outside.

Padmé rubbed the back of her neck, perturbed, as she heard him get back in the boat.

She didn't realize he had left Artoo behind until she heard the inquisitive beep, and couldn't quite revel in her unexpected good fortune.

Because for the briefest moment, she could have sworn Vader's eyes had shone blue.


	16. Transmission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I'm back. It's late. But it's a long chapter :) Thanks so much to everyone for your patience with me!
> 
> Obvious canon dialogue in this one.

**Chapter 16**

**Transmission**

"Ani? Little Ani?" Watto's eyes went wide. He narrowed them with a dismissive wave. "Nah…"

Anakin tightened the engine's last loose bolt with a twist, and stepped back. Waiting. He took a moment to glance around the place where he had spent six years of life.

The junk shop was small, cramped, and covered in engine grime. It had seemed so much larger once, so full of possibility, as if at any moment some glorious new adventure might walk through the door.

 _It did,_ Anakin thought.

Just outside was the junk yard where Qui-Gon had gone in search of parts, beside the door was where Jar Jar had tussled with a pit droid, and there was the counter where Anakin had sat and first seen Padmé. A bitter kind of loss filled his heart.

What would they think, if they could see him now? If they knew what he had done?

Master Shaak Ti, impaled by Anakin's blade.

A Jedi Knight falling to blasts from ten clone troopers in the archives.

A padawan Anakin's own age, fifteen or sixteen at the most, looking up in surprise as Anakin entered a training room.

 _What are you doing?_ the boy had asked.

Stomach lurching worse than ever, Anakin pushed the words from his mind.

Watto buzzed over to the counter and examined the engine with a familiar calculating stare. He gave a surprised grunt of realization and laughed. "You are Ani! It  _is_ you!"

He flew closer, raising his hands as if he expected Anakin to embrace him.

Anakin crossed his arms over his chest. He harbored as much love for his old master as his new one.

Watto's laughter faded and he cocked his head, eyes straying to Anakin's lightsaber. "You really did it, Ani? Eh? A Jedi? I knew you could. Didn't I always—?"

"My mother," Anakin said sharply.

"Eh, yeah, Shmi…" Watto rubbed the back of his neck with a shrug. "She's not mine no more. I sold her."

The world felt as if it had dropped out from beneath Anakin's feet.

"W-what?"

"Sorry, Ani, but business is business," Watto said. "After the race, I had to cover my losses, you know? I held out for as long as I could. She's a good mechanic. Hard to find around these parts, but…"

Anakin blinked. Tears that had been building since the temple threatened to overwhelm him.

The notion of crying in front of Watto was enough to keep them at bay.

"I got a tip from way out in Anchorhead," Watto said. "Buyer willing to pay  _loads_ for—?"

"Who?" Anakin asked urgently. "Who did you sell her to?"

Watto glared in irritation, but said, "Gardulla. She lost a lot of money on your race. They all did…"

Terror laced its way through Anakin's veins. "Gardulla the Hutt has my mom?"

"I don't know." Watto grimaced. "She did once, but maybe not no more."

"I didn't come all this way to…" Anakin stopped, breathing through his nose against nausea.

_You don't know what I did to get here._

He tried again, "You  _have_ to know."

"I already told you what I know, Ani. That's all there is. But…the Hutts were mighty angry with you, methinks." Watto stroked his chin. "Shmi could be with any one of them now."

Anakin was done wasting time. He turned for the exit.

_I'll find mom if she's still—_

He stopped that thought cold.

 _No. Mom's_ alive.  _I'd feel it if she wasn't._

Wouldn't he?

His stomach roiled.

"Hey! Where you going, Ani?" Watto called after him. "Stay! You could help me out with some deadbeats who owe me a lot of money—"

Trembling with rage, Anakin turned back and made a fist.

Watto choked. He cleared his throat against it, but it was no good. The pressure on his windpipe grew tighter and his eyes bulged, wings beating faster than ever as he struggled to breathe.

The Jedi padawan had choked, too.

Anakin lost his hold, staggered sideways, and vomited into a container of rusted parts.

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry._

Anakin heaved until his stomach was empty, and couldn't keep back a sob.

The frightened shock of Watto's presence in the Force flashed to a slaver's fury.

"I thought you were a Jedi, boy!" Watto shouted, reverting to Huttese. He flew up high until he towered over Anakin. "But you're just the same as you always were! A stubborn child full of disrespect!"

Anakin spat, enraged, and pushed himself back up. The Dark Side coursed through him. He ignited his lightsaber in a slash of red, satisfied to feel Watto's terror.

_Do you know what I've done? Do you know what I am?_

Anakin answered in Huttese, "I am no Jedi."

* * *

_I shouldn't have done that._

Padmé bit her nails while she paced the study.

Vader's hand had been in her hair, his arms at her back, and his lips had been soft where they brushed against the place where her neck met her shoulder.

She ghosted a finger along her throat, as if to replicate the sensation, and shivered.

_I wanted to._

Padmé was half-convinced she was leaving tread marks on the carpet, her thoughts as back-and-forth as her footsteps.

Her fingers tangled in the chain of her japor snippet, a reminder of her mission, and walked down the hall to a window.

Artoo had finished cleaning up the bodies.

Another flare of warning coursed through her, and mingled with the ache of inexplicable wanting.

Padmé sighed.  _Things were so clear, and now…No._

Things were clear still.

_I will not give into this._

But the question she so wanted to know an answer to fluttered persistently in her mind.

If Vader returned before her escape, would he let her go?

Could she trust him to?

The fact that Padmé did not know was more conflicting than anything else.

There was a beep.

Artoo rolled toward her down the hallway and Padmé's heart leapt.

"Obi-Wan's message," she said. "It should be safe now.."

Artoo ejected a small data disk from his front panel with a whistle, and held it out for Padmé to take. She did with a frown— _A physical message?—_ turned it over in her hands. Fingers shaking slightly, she re-inserted it into Artoo's drive.

A hologram came to life on the hall floor.

_Obi-Wan._

Cloaked and bearded, and alive and well.

Padmé bit her lip and fought the sudden urge to cry.

She hadn't seen him in four years.

"Honorable Delegates of the Republic," Obi-Wan said, a spark of rebellion in his eye. "I do apologize if there was any confusion in retrieving my message, but I felt it was safer if the Empire could not locate it in Artoo's systems."

Padmé smiled through tear-blurred vision.

"Included on this drive, you will find coordinates. They will lead you to a temple on the water of an ocean planet. One that exists outside of Imperial record."

_I was right._

"Artoo is the only one who can access them without wiping the entire drive," Obi-Wan said. "Use him to pass the message along to those in the Alliance."

Artoo shuffled side to side with a whistle.

"There is one last thing that I must say. I share your concern for Senator Amidala in the aftermath of her capture above Scarif," Obi-Wan said. "While I do not know now if she is alive or dead, I know that by the time you receive this, you will have your answer. But I do believe, whatever her fate, hers is a worthy example in which to follow. Your allegiance is to the Republic, to democracy, and it is an admirable cause."

Padmé pressed a hand to her mouth.

"Senators, may the Force be with you."

The message closed off as abruptly as it had begun.

Padmé sniffed and straightened up.

Regardless of how Vader fit into it all, her conviction was firm.

"Artoo," she said, "you'll have to hold onto those coordinates until we can give them to the Delegation. It's been long enough. We're getting out of here."

* * *

Aurra Sing was quick.

The bounty hunter bounded through the shadowed streets of Coruscant's lower city at a furious speed, Vader on her heels.

She turned the corner of an alleyway and fired off two quick shots over her shoulder.

Vader's blade slashed, and the bolts went flying back to her.

She dodged once, and—

"Augh!" Sing clutched her arm in agony, the gesture doing nothing to mask the scent of burning flesh.

Sing ducked and rolled out of reach, crouching behind a generator. He could hear her ragged breathing.

Vader tensed, sensing her indecision, when Sing shot up, blasters blazing. Her injured arm dangled at her side, and she charged him, firing relentlessly.

_Uselessly._

Vader's lightsaber struck her squarely in the chest and Sing pitched back, landing in a motionless heap.

 _It's done,_ he thought, silencing the weapon. _They're gone._

Relief made him dizzy.

The last four bounty hunters had been difficult to track—from Dathomir to Coruscant—and Sing had evaded him the longest. But now…

Vader's calm slipped away as quickly as it had come.

No. It wasn't over at all.

Sidious would send more bounty hunters, or stormtroopers, or anyone else willing to work in service of the Empire on his quest to find Padmé. The close call with Fett had proven that Varykino was far more vulnerable than Vader had believed. He could only feign ignorance for so long.

 _I can't stop it for good unless Sidious_ —

Vader's breath went scarce.

No.

_I can't._

Of course, Vader had imagined it for years, fantasized about it in his most furious moments of humiliation, but after Tatooine he had given up almost all aspiration of killing his master.

 _Come back,_ Padmé had asked him when he could still feel the ghost of her skin's heat on his.

_I can't do that if I'm dead…_

Vader let out a rough breath.

Sidious had dangled him on a string, let him believe that he'd fooled him. Ordered Padmé's execution, as he'd ordered a thousand other horrible, unforgivable things.

He deserved to die for that.

Vader's hand crushed into a fist as he emerged from the alleyway and jumped into his speeder.

There was no time to think. He blasted upward into traffic and sped toward the Senate building with fire in his blood.

* * *

It was cold in the receiving area of the Senate's luxurious docking bay. Large pillars stared down at Vader in silent accusation as he waited for an elevator.

A pair of senators walked by and he tugged his hood close around his face.

 _You can stop, Vader_ told himself over the sound of his heartbeat in his ears,  _turn back._

But the memory of Fett and Padmé falling from the air made it impossible.

The elevator doors slid open and Vader stepped inside with unsteady breath. Sweat beaded on his forehead even as a shiver wracked through him.

Vader's fingertips rested on the hilt of his lightsaber, and a panicked half-smirk spread over his lips.

_What would the senators think seeing one of these after the Purge?_

That he were a Jedi about to commit treason?

_They would be half right._

His smirk faded.

A heady daze of power pulsed in Vader's veins, one that buzzed with anxiety and thudded with the cruel beat of self-loathing. Fear had him to his bones, to the marrow. Fear for Padmé and, shamefully, fear for himself, and Vader knew was as ready as he could stand to be.

The elevator doors slid open.

The chill of the Imperial Executive Offices gusted over Vader in an icy wave. His heart leapt.

There were no guards outside Sidious' office.

Vader broke into a run.

He waved a hand as the approached the office door, flinging it open, and he found himself staring straight at Senator Mon Mothma.

She looked at Vader in shock, and her eyes darted to the lightsaber in his hands. A beguiled mixture of frustration and hope mingled on her face.

"Senator Mothma?" Mas Amedda's voice floated out from the antechamber. "Did you have anything else to report for the briefing?"

Mon Mothma's eyes grew wider and she gave Vader a jerk of her chin.

 _Go_ , the gesture said.

Vader shook his head.

He had not come so close to be denied the satisfaction of trying.

"No," Mon Mothma said over her shoulder, never taking her eyes off Vader. "That was all, Vice Chair. Excuse me, I have an appointment to keep."

Vader took a step, but Mon Mothma slammed her hand over the door's control mechanism and it shut with a click.

Furious, Vader reached for it.

"Banai," Mon Mothma said under her breath. "Don't."

Her eyes strayed to the elevators.

 _Follow,_ they seemed to say.

Vader glowered at her a moment, considering.

He could kill her for standing in his way. It would be easy. He could burst inside, and destroy the Vice chair, the Imperial aides, and else who stood between him and the Emperor.

But the urgent fire inside him had cooled under the ice of surprise.

Vader felt only fear and conflict.

And secret, shameful relief.

* * *

Mon Mothma's pilot was quick.

Vader trailed them at a hundred feet back through every dip and swerve of traffic as they sped away from the Senate.

Her speeder took a sharp turn and dived toward the surface.

Surprised, Vader held the steering device forward as far as it could go and flew down after them. He swerved over a stationary speeder at the last possible moment. Its pilot blasted the horn, shouting a curse that was lost to the howl of the wind.

Mon Mothma's speeder docked on the street below outside a grimy shop for used parts. She and her guards had already disappeared inside.

Vader came to a stop, considering his options.

He drummed his fingers against the steerer.

Did lying to the senators even matter anymore? Sidious knew of Vader's treachery, and concentrating on the mission after what had happened at the retreat seemed almost comical. But despite all his apprehensions, Vader couldn't deny his curiosity.

He went to the shop door.

It was locked, a small camera set into its face.

"Um." Vader realized he didn't know what to say, and cleared his throat. "I'm here to see the Delegation leader…"

There was a long pause, and the door opened.

The shop interior was dark and bare. Vader squinted in the dimness. He could just make out the outline of a ventilator, a workbench, and an empty counter fronting a storeroom door.

Somewhere deeper inside the building, people were speaking.

Vader opened the storeroom door, and was nearly blinded by the glare of a brightly lit antechamber. He held up a hand to block out the light.

Delegation senators gathered around a holoscreen displaying a map of the Outer-Rim. Their exhaustion and anxiety were heavy in the Force. Mon Mothma and Bail Organa were among them.

"If we don't receive the information soon…" she whispered.

"He will come through," Bail said. "I have faith in him. Padmé did."

Vader cleared his throat.

A hush fell over the senators.

"If you'll excuse us," Mon Mothma said, "I need a word alone with our visitor."

Murmuring amongst themselves, the senators filed down another hall.

Vader opened his mouth to speak, when she rounded on him.

"What were you thinking?" Mon Mothma asked. "Entering the Imperial Executive Offices armed with a Jedi weapon—"

"I was going to assassinate the Emperor—!"

"The offices were filled with guards," Mon Mothma said, "not to mention the Vice Chair and his aides. Your timing would have implicated myself and every other member of the Delegation by proxy. The Empire has targeted each of our home planets already. Do you understand how vital it is that our briefings go on without incident? Especially now? In any case, your assassination attempt would have been fruitless. The Emperor is not here."

"What?" Vader said. His voice rose. "Then where is he?"

_And why couldn't I sense that he'd left?_

"The official story is that he's visiting an Imperial naval base on Corellia," Mon Mothma said. "But from what our spies could glean, he's at a secret location in the Outer-Rim, observing the beginnings of construction on Project Stardust. I hope you understand how serious this is."

Vader exhaled and bowed his head. "I do…I apologize."

Mon Mothma gave him a scrutinizing stare. "You truly believed you could assassinate the Emperor?"

 _Yes,_ Vader thought immediately.  _No…_

"I don't know," he said. "But I wanted to try."

She nodded, still looking at him with indecision in her eyes.

"Here." Mon Mothma held out a transmitter.

Uncertain, Vader took it.

"This is tuned to a particular frequency," Mon Mothma said. "Contact me when you have your Artoo unit, and we will proceed from there."

_The Rebel Network…_

Vader cleared his throat. "What changed your mind?"

"I'll be honest with you, Banai, my mind hasn't changed much at all," Mon Mothma said. "But you did as I asked, and you've proven you have no love for the Emperor. We need men for the coming fight. Can I rely on you?"

Vader nodded, hand closing around the transmitter.

"Then that must be enough."

Mon Mothma disappeared down the hall, and Vader stared after her, too stunned to speak.

"Kitster?" Bail Organa entered the antechamber. "Could I have a word?"

* * *

The Outlander was bright and pulsating with music, but nearly empty in late afternoon. The usual crowd of gamblers and drunks were absent, sleeping off whatever thrills they'd chased the night before.

Bail sat beside Vader at one of the stools, declining service from a harried Togruta bartender.

Vader had ordered a drink, but found he didn't have the stomach for it. The transmitter in his pocket felt heavy.

"I apologize for the strange choice in meeting place," Bail said. "But there's little chance of anyone following us here. Kitster—"

"I'm not."

Bail frowned. "Excuse me?"

Vader leaned over his drink, staring into the blue liquid. "Kitster Banai. That's not my name."

Bail was quiet a moment. "I know."

Vader looked up in surprise.

"Don't tell me you believed that we wouldn't look into you?" Bail asked. "After we found you at Padmé's apartment, knowing what you knew, we began our research immediately. We did find a Kitster Banai. A slave on Tatooine who was sold to three different masters in the span of six years, and eventually earned his freedom through a career in the arts."

That brought a fleeting smile to Vader's lips.

Kitster deserved that.

It was good to know his escape had been more successful than Anakin Skywalker's.

"I assume you knew him?" Bail said.

Vader didn't answer.

"But you…we could find no record of you at all."

Vader swirled his drink. "There wouldn't be one."

"You're with the Empire."

Vader's throat felt tight. He didn't deny it.

"But you were going to assassinate Emperor Palpatine," Bail said. "Why?"

Vader sat back in his seat.

"Because he ruined my life," he said at last, "and the lives of everyone around me."

Bail's took in the information in silence.

"I helped him do it," Vader admitted in a quiet voice.

He looked up to see Bail's brow furrowed.

"Are you going to kill me?" Vader asked. "Because I do warn you, it won't be very easy if you try."

"No," Bail said, a hint of laughter in his voice. "No, I don't think we need to resort to that just yet."

"I don't know what to do," Vader said to himself.

"What would Senator Amidala want you to do?"

Padmé. The mention of her made Vader's stomach clench pleasantly. And guiltily.

"To be better than this," he said with quiet shame. "She doesn't deserve what…"

_What I did._

_What I'm doing._

"You said you knew her when you were children during the invasion crisis?" Bail asked. He seemed to take Vader's silence as confirmation. "You loved her?"

Was he so obvious?

Vader wondered if she knew. His chest felt constricted with fear and hope. Dread and anticipation.

Bail waited a moment. "I mentored Senator Amidala when she joined the Senate."

Vader was intrigued. "Did you?"

"Yes," Bail said. "There was a certain cause that she joined to pursue. She lost a friend, you see, during the Battle of Naboo. I believe she wanted to find some measure of justice for him."

Vader swallowed.

"She told me she had never known anyone braver, or more impulsive than Anakin Skywalker," Bail said.

At the mention of that name, Vader's shoulders went rigid.

"Perhaps it's best we remember what made that boy a hero. Senator Amidala always did."

 _What are you saying?_ Vader wanted to demand, but he couldn't His tongue had forgotten how to create words.

"What you tried today, well I suppose you reminded me of her. You did what you believed was right, even when the odds were against you." Bail stood. "Excuse me, Kitster, I must return to the Delegates."

Vader sat alone, steeped in hatred for Sidious and himself, wishing he could forget Bail's misplaced admiration.

_You're wrong, Senator Organa._

Vader was nothing like Padmé at all.

* * *

"Are you sure?" Padmé asked, toying with the chain of her japor snippet.

Artoo chirped and welded another ruined part back to the study computer.

_Almost done._

Padmé laughed breathlessly.

 _Almost_.

"Padmé?"

Her face fell even as her heart gave a resounding thump at the sound of Vader's voice.

Again, he was back.

Padmé glanced furtively over her shoulder at Artoo. "Artoo, don't leave."

Artoo bleeped in understanding and went back to work.

Padmé made for the stairs and saw Vader rounding the corner at first level foyer.

Unable to stop herself, she ran the rest of the way down.

Slowly, Vader took the last few steps to the foot of the stairs. His eyes were distinctly yellow, the color of the deepest part of a flame, and his mouth held the suggestion of a smile. Padmé stopped short of touching him.

_I can't._

Vader cleared his throat, and she saw him flex his fingers before dropping his hands to his sides. "I want you to come with me. We won't go far, but it's important."

Padmé raised her eyebrows with a perplexed smile. "That's one way to say hello."

With a self-conscious laugh, Vader said, "Hello."

She shook her head with a grin, and he broke into a smile that showed his age. It sent a jolt of fire through Padmé's nerves.

_He didn't ask about Artoo._

Padmé's felt a burst of sudden hope.

"Will you?" Vader asked again, gentler this time. "Come with me, please?"

He looked so open, so trusting, and so deceptively innocent.

Padmé's stomach flipped with ridiculous, barely suppressed longing and her hope of escape was higher than it had ever been. Perhaps that was what made her nod.

When Vader reached out his hand, she took it.


	17. Familiar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: And my love affair with canon dialogue continues (or, canon-adjacent, as some of it is borrowed from deleted scenes and the AOTC script). Thank you all so much for your wonderful and encouraging feedback! :)

**Chapter 17**

**Familiar**

Padmé studied Vader as they prepared to take off.

He seemed happy, the corners of his mouth turned up, but distant, too, furrowing his brow every so often as if bothered by unwelcome concern.

"Your droid is gone," Padmé said.

"I couldn't take him along with me on my mission. I had to leave him on the  _Annihilator_."

"Where did you go?" she asked.

Vader piloted the ship out of the field. He opened his mouth to speak, but wavered, as if unsure of what to say.

_That's not surprising._

Disappointed, Padmé twisted her fingers together in her lap. "After what happened, I thought you were going to be more honest with me."

Vader's head snapped up.

"What?" Padmé asked.

"There were more of them."

"More of who?"

"Bounty hunters. Jango Fett was one of them."

"The Mandalorian?"

Vader nodded, and turned from the vast expanse of lake country to meet Padmé's eyes. "But don't worry, I tracked them down. They aren't coming after you anymore."

She looked away from him. "I see."

Padmé could imagine easily enough how that had ended, and while she had killed her share of stormtroopers during Fett's attack, she couldn't consider it the same as a premeditated act of violence.

Vader seemed to hear the distance in her voice. "I was doing it for you—"

"You could have told me what was happening—"

"—to protect you."

Padmé shook her head, frustrated.

Vader went quiet, the silence heavy with something that made Padmé's skin prickle.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I don't want apologies, I want answers," Padmé said. "Is that something you can give me?"

Vader was quiet again. "The Emperor knows you're alive," he said after a moment. "I don't know when he found out, or if he ever believed you died at all _,_ but now…You're a powerful member of the opposition. He'll keep looking until he finds you."

Padmé knew it was true, Fett had said it himself, but that didn't stop her from shivering at Vader's words.

"And I won't let him," Vader said.

Padmé looked away from him, hiding how much the sentiment behind his overconfidence touched her. "Who's to say the Emperor doesn't already know where I am?"

"He hasn't put out any official word," Vader said. "He would want to make a spectacle. Paint you as a radical fugitive, endangering the Empire. He did the first time, held a special session of congress just to intimidate your Delegation. Until the Emperor puts the entire galaxy on alert, the safest thing for you to do is stay dead."

_For now._

"Where do you stand?" Padmé asked. "With the opposition, or the Empire?"

Vader flexed his hands on the steering device. "Does it matter?"

Padmé blinked. "It matters to me."

Vader didn't speak. She thought that was the end of it, until he said, "I stand with you."

Warmth spread through Padmé's stomach.

In its own way, it was a terrible non-answer, one that did little to support or dismantle her tentative trust in him, but it did everything for the wonderful, perplexing ache in her chest.

"There's risk in this," Padmé said, "whatever we're doing now. Going wherever we're going."

"Probably," Vader said. "Do you want to go back?"

Padmé twisted her fingers in the silky material of her dress. Back at Varykino was a clear path to the Rebellion and freedom. Alone with Vader, her prospects were murkier.

But she wanted to stay with him so much that it hurt.

Padmé shook her head and whispered, "No."

Vader's eyes grew large.

"Aren't you going to tell me where we're going this time?" Padmé asked.

"No," Vader said, a hint of a smile on his lips, "and not for the reason you think."

Padmé raised an eyebrow. "What is the reason I think?"

"Something…less than upstanding."

"Less than upstanding?" Padmé repeated, and laughed before she could help it. "And you say that I'm too serious."

There was a smile in the corner of Vader's mouth. "Stop that."

"Stop what?" Padmé laughed.

"You're mocking me, milady."

"Considering the circumstances, Lord Vader, I believe it's fair."

"Mercilessly."

"I can't believe what I'm seeing," Padmé said. "You, of all people, are the slightest bit intimidated."

Vader glanced at her sideways, his eyes lingering. Padmé felt her stomach clench, flustered by the reaction he was drawing from her.

"No," he said, "much more than slightly."

* * *

It was twilight when Vader and Padmé touched down in a Theed spaceport.

He saw the tension evaporate from her face as she realized where they were. Vader felt it in the Force. Padmé's relief wrapped around him in a peaceful shroud.

His smile faded. If she was relieved, that meant she had been more worried than he'd realized.

 _I don't want that,_ Vader thought fiercely. He didn't want her to harbor any anxiety that needed alleviating.

Padmé stood from the co-pilot's seat.

"Wait." Vader followed her to the hatch, unclasping his cloak.

She went still, chest rising with a quick breath that made his throat tighten. "Yes?"

With a swallow, Vader stepped closer and drew the cloak around her shoulders. He pulled the hood up to cover her hair, and it dropped down over her eyes.

"This is too big!" Padmé laughed and pushed the hood up with one hand.

Vader smiled before he could help it. "Maybe a little."

She shook her head, still so close and smiling out from beneath the shadow of his cloak. His heart did a flip.

"It'll be fine," Vader said and lowered the hatch. "Follow me, and stay close."

Padmé looked quizzical, but did as he asked, trailing him out into the city.

There was a crowd ahead in the square, shopping or heading to the spaceport. It was strange, not seeing stormtroopers on patrol. Naboo was a relic of a lost time. The Emperor's home world, untouched. Padmé's home world.

Vader wondered, and not for the first time,  _How can they be from the same place?_

The crowd grew thicker the closer they got to the palace. Vader reached back and took Padmé's hand, hoping the risk of getting separated in the crowd was enough to make up for how badly he wanted to touch her.

Her fingers curled around his and Vader's heart sped so fast he thought it would burst.

They tread familiar streets. Vader could remember them all so clearly from sneaking through the city with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. He had felt so determined and small and out of place. At the head of their party, Padmé had taken the lead. She had been barely more than a child herself, storming the city with a blaster in hand, doing what none of the adults around them had had the courage to do. He had been in awe of her then.

He was in awe of her now.

Padmé hurried along at his side. Vader glanced over to see her lift the hood for a peek.

"Almost," he said.

She dropped it again, the curve of her mouth puzzled and pleased.

The funeral temple was vacant. It was used only for state functions in the age of the Empire, and of those, there were very few. No one kept the gardens tame. They sloped along one hill and surrounded a gazebo away from the waterfall side, a tangle of untidy plants.

Vader and Padmé crossed a bridge over a rush of water and approached the entrance.

With a glance back to be sure they hadn't been followed, he let go of her hand.

Padmé gave him a curious look. "What are we doing here?"

"Go inside."

Padmé drifted away from him toward the temple with a glance over her shoulder. Vader could feel her curiosity.

She was nearly to the entrance when a woman stepped out.

Sola Naberrie's eyes went large.

Padmé stood still, but only for the briefest moment. With a cry, she ran forward and threw her arms around her sister's neck.

* * *

Sola clutched at Padmé as if she would slip away at any moment, her tears soaking the collar of Vader's cloak.

Padmé felt the urge to cry, too, high and harsh in her throat, but suppressed it. She didn't want Sola to have to worry any more than she already had. Padmé held her sister tight, and screwed her eyes shut.

"We should go inside," Vader said quietly.

At the sound of his voice, Padmé's heart burst into a thousand pieces. Every one of them belonged to him.

"Yes." Sola pulled back tearfully, holding Padmé's face in her hands. "Yes…"

She wrapped an arm around Padmé's shoulders and guided her into the temple. Vader did not follow. Padmé caught a glimpse of him standing just outside the doorway, not intruding, but not leaving either. Stuck between.

"Padmé!" Jobal Naberrie rushed forward, engulfing Padmé in another warm hug. Ruwee followed.

With both of her parents' arms wrapped around her, Padmé couldn't hold back the tears anymore. They escaped, hot against her cheeks.

Jobal swiped at them with her thumbs and took Padmé's hands. Ruwee placed a hand on her shoulder, and Sola hovered nearby. Padmé felt steadier with them near.

"What happened to you?" Jobal asked, reaching up to smooth a hand along Padmé's hair. "We received a formal notice from the Empire that you'd been executed for treason—"

"I'm all right, mom," Padmé quietly, "but the Emperor cannot know that I'm here. No one can."

Ruwee shook his head. "When that man with the yellow eyes showed up to tell us you were alive, we…I didn't believe him."

Padmé looked to the stone floor of the temple.

"But you are," Ruwee said. "You are. And we will do whatever we can to keep you that way."

With that, they folded Padmé back into their arms.

* * *

The happiness of Padmé and her family was brilliant and blinding in the Force, and comforting, too. Even watching from the doorway, Vader could feel it. But with that comfort came a familiar sting.

_Oh, I'm so proud of you, Ani…_

Vader drifted away from the scene and toward the gardens. He walked a path of wild, overgrown trees hung with strange Gungan lights until he found a planter with space to sit, and reached for his pocket.

With a shaky breath, Vader studied the transmitter, turning it over in his hands.

For the first time in so long, he felt uncertain. And he was afraid.

* * *

Padmé's father had departed first, over the bridge by the waterfall, and her mother not long after him, down the opposite side of the temple grounds. Sad as she was to see them go, Padmé felt the slightest bit relieved.

_They were in danger here. In danger with me._

Sola remained behind.

"He told us the Empire could be watching us," she said. "We came here three separate ways, at three separate times. I had to lie to Darred and say I was leaving for a grieving retreat on Ohma D'un to keep him from asking too many questions. I even took a round trip for appearances."

"I'm sorry," Padmé said.

"Sorry?" Sola shook her head and reached out for Padmé's hand. "You think it wasn't worth a quick turnaround off planet to see my little sister again?"

Padmé smiled.

Sola sniffed and pulled the chain of the japor snippet from beneath the collar of Padmé's dress with a teasing smile. "You're still wearing this thing?"

Padmé laughed. "Of course."

"You never give up, do you? Captured by the Empire, presumed dead, and still thinking of the cause," Sola said, part marveling, part teasing. "I should have known you would make it out somehow."

"I almost didn't."

Padmé's words made the air somber again.

"The girls still don't know," Sola said. "The yellow-eyed man, he said it wasn't safe…"

Padmé was shocked to realize that she agreed with Vader, even if not for the same reasons. With the things she knew about Stardust, the Empire, the Jedi, if Ryoo or Pooja were to tell anyone that she was still alive…

_I can't include my family in this. I can't endanger them like that._

Her escape would have to be by her own hand.

"It isn't," Padmé finally said.

Sola nodded in understanding. "Who is he?"

Padmé swallowed, unsure of how to answer. "He's…a friend."

It didn't feel honest.

"Why haven't you told us about him?" Sola asked.

"What's there to talk about?" Padmé said, dancing around the subject. "I didn't meet him until after I was taken prisoner…"

But that didn't feel honest either.

Padmé knew Vader, she  _knew_ him, in some inexplicable, subconscious way. She knew parts of him, at least. There was a naturalness to their interactions that she couldn't explain, an easy predictability.  _Except when there isn't._  Those parts of Vader came out in flashes. Young parts. Kind parts. Ones that set her at ease. Those were the ones she knew.

Sola's face, marked with tear tracks, broke into one of her playful smiles. "He admires you."

"I know that," Padmé said, a warning in her tone.

_No, Sola, don't you dare—_

"And he's obviously, madly in love with you."

Padmé felt as if her heart had been shot into hyperspace, but tried to cover it with a laugh. " _What_?"

"You haven't seen the way he looks at you? It's obvious he has feelings for you," Sola said. "Standing there in the doorway with his eyes going over all—"

"Sola, stop it."

"Oh my goodness, baby sister, are you…?" Sola's smile faded. "Padmé, are you all right? You know I'm only teasing."

"You're not," Padmé said. "You don't understand."

"Tell me?"

Padmé shook her head.

A line of worry etched across Sola's forehead. "Is he dangerous?"

_Yes._

Sola panicked. "Has he hurt you, or—?"

" _No_ ," Padmé said quickly. "No, and I don't believe he will."

Sola still looked concern. "You don't believe he will, or you know that he won't?"

Padmé met her gaze head on. "I know. He helped me. He's the only reason I'm here with you now."

"What's his name?" Sola asked. "He wouldn't tell us."

Worry churned in Padmé's gut. "It's probably better if you don't know."

"I expected as much."

"And he's not in love with me," Padmé said firmly.

Sola tilted her head. "Would it be so bad if he were?"

Padmé looked to her feet.

"You know," Sola said, their old banter falling quickly apart, "I still can't believe you're alive. I knew I'd never see you again…I  _knew_  it the moment those stormtroopers showed up at our door."

Padmé felt her own eyes, finally dry, welling again at Sola's tone.

"And then out of nowhere this boy brings you home? Looking like that." Sola smirked. "Looking at  _you_ like that? I just assumed—"

"We're not," Padmé said. "He's not. It's just not possible."

"Not possible?" Sola repeated. Her eyes darted to the japor snippet. "You never do anything for yourself. When's the last time you did something you truly wanted? Something just for you, without the weight of the galaxy on your shoulders?"

Padmé couldn't say.

"I'm not saying you should want this," Sola said, "but, Padmé, if you do…it's all right."

The words did nothing to assuage Padmé's worry.

"I can't afford to do that right now," she whispered.

When she returned to Varykino, her chance to confront her feelings for Vader would be over. Soon, she would be long gone. Barring another incident like Scarif, it was doubtful she'd ever see him again.

Sola reached up to smooth Padmé's wild hair, like she had when they were little, and linked their arms. Padmé closed her eyes and tried to pretend it was that simpler time. That the Republic was still a pillar of goodness in the galaxy, that her planet had never been invaded and a little slave boy never lost, that she had never watched the Empire rise.

That she had never started falling in love with Darth Vader.

* * *

When Sola left, Padmé wandered away from the funeral temple. Every moon was high in the center of the sky, and bio-luminescent lights—a gift from Boss Nass after the invasion crisis—hung around the gardens,.

They cast a warm glow over the path as Padmé walked to where Vader sat beside a planter overgrown with ryoo.

He looked up.

Padmé stopped a short distance from him and pulled his cloak from her shoulders. "Sola's gone."

Vader nodded.

"You are…" Padmé stopped. She didn't know how to put it into words. "Why did you do this?"

"I couldn't keep you from your family. I couldn't…" Vader trailed off.

"You lost yours," Padmé said. "Your mother."

Vader looked away again.

Padmé inclined her head. "Can I ask what happened?"

"No." The word was softer than a whisper.

With a nod of acceptance, Padmé drew closer and set the cloak at his side. She stopped in front of him. Vader breathed in at her nearness, his reaction sending electricity crackling to her bones. It felt odd, having height over him, looking down for once instead of up, and something niggled in the back of her mind. He looked worn, and sad, and scared.

And terribly familiar.

Vader's eyes drifted along the neckline of her dress, and Padmé swallowed, but his hand darted out to catch her necklace.

Padmé's breath caught, and her mind raced for a way to stop him from touching one of her oldest possessions so roughly, until he ran his thumb over the carvings with a reverent gentleness. Her heart raced, thudding beneath skin that was less than inches from his fist.

Vader's eyes welled.

"Are you all right?" Padmé asked, startled.

He nodded and dropped the snippet, clearing his throat and wiping at his eyes. "Yeah."

But he didn't look it.

Padmé sat beside him and tentatively reached for his shoulder. When he didn't protest, she gently rubbed her hand along his upper back and up to brush back his hair, trying to offer some comfort.

Vader shuddered. "I feel lost."

"Lost?" Padmé's fingers stilled in his hair.

"I don't know what to do. I don't know who to be."

"You're a good person," Padmé said.

"I'm not."

"You are," Padmé insisted, and took a breath, "or, you could be. Maybe even on a large scale."

A secret wish burned in her heart.

_You could come with me._

Vader looked to the ground. "No."

Padmé dropped her hand to her side.

"It's too late for me," Vader said.

"I don't believe that."

But her belief only meant so much.

Vader reached for her japor snippet again. "How long have you been wearing this?"

"Always," Padmé said, startled by the change of subject. She covered his hand with hers, taking the necklace back. "Eleven years."

There was a strange glimmer in Vader's eyes, hidden in the shadow. They were less like fire, more like smoke. Cool. And the shape of them a shape she knew.

And Padmé's heart beat with the prospect of an impossible notion that was too good to be true, and too terrible to consider.


	18. The Meadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: AHH! It's been too long since I've updated! First off, I'm so so sorry. It has been a Week. I wasn't even able to properly edit until Friday. Apparently this writing ahead thing still isn't immune to RL delays :( Thank you all so much with your patience with this one! You are seriously so amaze.
> 
> Canon dialogue ahead (written by George Lucas).

**Chapter 18**

**The Meadow**

Padmé had been quiet since she and Vader's return to Varykino. She was distant and contemplative and drawn into herself, and he could not help but wonder if what he'd said in Theed was the cause.

_You're a good person._

Never had Vader wanted to believe a false statement was true so badly.

But Padmé believed that it was. And Mon Mothma and Bail Organa had put their faith in him as well.

Thoughts of the Delegation, and the transmitter they'd entrusted him with, ran through Vader's mind in guilty surges. Desperate for distraction, he glanced over to Padmé where she reclined in the lower level sitting room. The japor snippet hung from her throat, arresting his attention.

_Eleven years._

Eleven years on, and she still wore it.

He had spent hours carving away at the charm, stayed up half the night before the pod-race to finish the fine detailing. It wasn't until he had sat shivering and frightened in the belly of the Naboo cruiser that he had finally felt ready to share his token of affection. He had wanted it to be perfect. To make sure that Padmé did not forget him.

_She never did._

Now, her fingers tangled and untangled habitually in the chain, and a data pad for reading sat bright on her lap. But Padmé stared ahead, lost in thought.

Artoo rolled up to her with a whistle, and Vader frowned when she didn't brighten.

Abruptly, she stood. "I can't—" and cut herself off.

"What is it?" Vader asked.

Padmé exhaled. "I want to show you something."

"Of course," Vader said. "Anything."

She marched into the kitchen, and rifled through a cabinet, emerging with a metal basket on her arm. Vader stood in the doorway and watched, perplexed, as she filled it with food.

Off his look, Padmé said, "It's a bit of a walk."

"Where to?"

Her face lit up, and there was a sudden thrill in the Force. "I guess you'll have to find out."

Vader grinned. "Lead the way."

* * *

Padmé's heart was heavy with unspoken things.

_You never do anything for yourself._

_Yes I do,_ Padmé thought in rebuttal against the invisible, insistent Sola in her mind.  _But not this._

Not him.

"How much further?" Vader asked as they neared the crest of a hill. He held out his hand for her to take so she could step over the thin stream that snaked its way past rocks and saplings.

Vader was sun-warm, and her skin sang where he touched her.

_When's the last time you did something you truly wanted?_

Padmé released his fingers. "We're almost there."

She pressed on ahead with a look back over her shoulder.

As always, Vader watched her with single-minded intensity.

Padmé looked away, but could still feel his stare on her back like emanating heat. It left her breath unsteady.

But there was more to be bothered by than intrusive longing. Other, more awful thoughts that would not let her be.

_You like him? Good with droids?_

_I'm honored to finally meet you, milady. Formally, that is…_

_A dead thing. A lost cause._

A soft rush in the distance distracted Padmé from her creeping worries.

"What's that sound?" Vader asked.

Padmé smiled and hurried over the hill to the bright, open space of the meadow. The sound of the waterfalls grew louder the further she went. She looked back, and the long walk was more than worth it for the look on Vader's face. He drank in the landscape, breathless.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

Vader nodded, mute with awe.

"I used to come here whenever I had the time as Queen," Padmé said. "To be by myself away from the capitol and the throne room. To think."

Vader followed her with a grin. "I don't know how you could think here."

Padmé's eyebrows rose.

"There's too much room to run." With that, Vader grabbed her basket and took off at a sprint.

"Hey!" Padmé chased him.

A herd of shaak brayed and lumbered away as Vader raced by, Padmé right on his heels. She caught him by his middle and he laughed, dropping the basket and turning in her arms.

Padmé struggled against his half-hearted attempts to keep her back.

"Such undignified behavior, senator," Vader said, breathless with laughter. "I'm shocked."

Padmé swatted his chest with a smile. "You're  _impossible_."

"And this place is beautiful." Vader reached down and picked up the basket with an apologetic smile. "I can see why you love it. Thank you for bringing me here."

Padmé's heart thumped, warm and high in her chest. She gave him a playful smile. "Well, you weren't wrong."

Vader furrowed his brow. "About what?"

Padmé took as step closer, as if to share a secret. She shivered when his breath hitched. If he wanted to run—

"Catch me," she whispered.

Vader's fingertips brushed her wrist for the briefest moment before she took off, racing through the field.

* * *

Hours later, exhausted, Padmé lay on her back at the crest of a low hill, and Vader watched her. He was lost to the melody of her voice.

"I'd bring a data pad on cloudy days." Padmé ran her hand over a nearby spray of tiny white flowers. The motion had Vader entranced. "I'd sit and read and listen to the waterfalls. I'd fall asleep in the middle of the meadow and wake up when the stars came out…"

She smiled at some silent memory and Vader's stomach clenched.

"I've never done anything like that," he said, and corrected himself, "Like this."

Padmé turned her head to look at him. "And what do you think?"

Vader grinned and pretended to concentrate on pulling a purple flower up by the root. "I could get used to it."

"You could," Padmé agreed. It almost sounded like an invitation.

Vader took in a quick breath.

He wanted to enjoy it, her attention and inclusion and star-bright presence in the Force, but beneath his pleasure was a guilty pit. Padmé was sharing something special with him, a place from her childhood where she had read and run and escaped the spirit-breaking pain of a collapsing Republic. And what had he done to earn it?

_Nothing._

Vader trembled and crushed the flower in his fist. "Padmé?"

She turned to look at him, her eyes drowsy and impossibly dark. When he didn't continue, they filled with concern. "Is everything all right?"

And Vader was so in love with her that the word escaped before he was ready to say it.

"Run."

Padmé pushed herself up on her elbow, a wildflower caught in her hair. "Vader, what are you talking about?"

"Padmé, you have to run. Take the boat, take my ship, and leave me here. Don't you see? You could just leave me right here."

Her eyes grew larger.

"Don't tell me where you're going or when you're going to leave, If you do, the Emperor will find out. He always does with me. But this way you have a chance." Vader found himself unable to look at her and said, "You should take it."

"You're letting me go," Padmé whispered, her voice tight with tears.

Vader stared at the ground. If he looked up, if he looked at her, he would not be able to go through with it. But he had to.

He would always be shackled to his master, but Padmé would not be shackled to him.

In the Force, Vader could feel her confusion, her shock, and above it all something bright and warm that made his eyes prickle.

"Vader…" Padmé reached out to catch his hand.

He swallowed in agony. The way she said his name…How long had he imagined hearing her say it that way?

And yet, it didn't sound right.

It didn't sound like his.

* * *

"Padmé, please," Vader said again. "Run."

_I will. I am. But not without you. Please. I can't leave you here…_

Those words and more stood poised on the tip of Padmé's tongue.

But she did not say them.

Instead, she stared down at where their hands met.

Vader grit his teeth and said, more forcefully, "I'm afraid for you. Always. That's why I…"

Padmé tried to meet his eyes. "Why…what?"

With a breath, Vader's fingers danced along her skin, brushing her open palm in a soft stroke and gliding up the sensitive expanse of her wrist. An agonizingly slow touch. The movement was torture, pure and sweet, and sent gooseflesh tingling up Padmé's arm.

And she wanted him more than she'd ever wanted anything in her life.

Vader looked from her hand to her face with naked longing, and Padmé stopped resisting the pull.

Their noses brushed, and his quick, startled breath was warm against her lips for a moment before he captured her mouth with his.

Vader's kiss was light, tentative and trembling with restraint, as if he were afraid of frightening her. Padmé pressed closer to deepen it, tasting his lower lip so that he moaned, startled, against her mouth. He kissed her harder, rough and warm, like fire on a windy night.

It sent a spark of delight to her bones.

Vader caught her waist to pull her to his chest, but the movement was too quick, and they pitched sideways down the gentle slope of the hill.

* * *

Padmé laughed, holding tight to Vader's shoulders and giggling until they came to a stop in the shallow valley of wildflowers.

"All right?" Vader's laughter subsided, and he swallowed at their closeness, flush against one another.

Padmé nodded, and rested her fingertips over the scar on his eyebrow. "Where did you get this?"

"Training." Vader swallowed, his organic palm splayed fast against Padmé's ribcage, thumb barely brushing the underside of her breast. He could feel her heartbeat, fast and growing faster, feel the heat of her against his skin. Could she tell how badly he wanted her?

She pulled him down and kissed him just above his eye before her fingers drummed against two small scars near his jaw. "And these?"

"Training."

Padmé did the same to them, and he laughed when her breath tickled his ear.

"And this?" She pressed her mouth to another small scar on his neck. Sparks shot through his veins and he gasped. "Hmm? Training or—?"

"Bad fall," Vader said.

Padmé pulled back and raised an eyebrow.

"Training," he conceded. He slid his mechanical hand beneath her head and dropped his forehead to hers. With a shaky breath, he asked, "Is this all righ—?"

Padmé curled her fingers into his hair and kissed him. Again and again, until Vader could scarcely breathe.

It didn't matter. He could sustain himself with only Padmé in his airways; she was more than enough. In and out, over and over, in every sense and every cell of him, stronger than the Force, more seductive than the Dark Side.

He was Padmé. Padmé was him.

Vader pulled back, propped up on an elbow. "You are so beautiful."

"Vader…" Padmé began, but went quiet with a trembling sigh when he traced her jawline and down the curve of her neck. The chain of her japor snippet was cool against his hand, and he could feel the charm trapped between them.

That left Vader's throat tight. Quietly, he admitted, "Every time I'm away from you, all I can think of is coming back. The thought of not being with you…I can't breathe."

Padmé's eyes were liquid and dark.

 _I know,_ they seemed to say.  _I feel the same._

And it had him emboldened.

"You're in my very soul," Vader said, fingers threading through her hair. "You're a part of me."

"I know," Padmé said, her hand sliding along his back.

"When I'm with you…" Vader struggled to put it into words. "I feel like…I'm a person."

Padmé inhaled swiftly and reached up to press a hand to his cheek, forcing him to look at her. Her eyes searched his face, and went wide.

"No." Padmé pushed at his shoulders and moved to sit.

Immediately, Vader rolled off her, legs shaking as if he had just run some unfathomable distance. He glanced at her, but she remained quiet, her eyes cast to her knees.

"I'm sorry," Vader said, confused and embarrassed, but not wanting to push. "I shouldn't have—"

Padmé shook her head to cut him off. "No. It's not you. It isn't you."

Vader frowned. There was something hidden in her words that made him shiver in shame and fear.

"The sun's setting," Padmé said after a moment.

It was, the horizon drenched in blood red.

"We should go inside," Vader said, hoping he didn't sound too reluctant.

He had liked the idea of staying, at least for a little while, out with her under the stars.

No matter.

"You're right," Padmé said. "It's a long walk back."

"Wait." Vader stood and offered his hand. Padmé took it, sending a jolt to his chest, and he helped her stand. She was as unsteady as he was and supported herself with a hand on his chest. Her closeness made his heart ache.

"Do you trust me?" Vader asked softly.

Padmé looked up. "I do."

Vader led her over to the herd of shaak and singled one out.

The animal brayed in protest when Vader approached, as if it could sense ugly decay of his innermost self and taste his loathing in the air.

There was too much anger in him, too much hatred. But Vader was not deterred. He reached out to draw on the Force.

Sidious shooting lightning from his fingertips, and Dooku cutting through Anakin's arm—

Padmé crying out on the  _Annihilator—_

_Mom. Mom—_

No.

Vader breathed out and tried to let go.

Obi-Wan smiling and shaking his hand.

Kissing Padmé, making her laugh.

_Oh, I'm so proud of you, Ani—_

The shaak went quiet, one dull, black eye meeting Vader's, not in submission, but acceptance. Agreement.

Tentatively, Vader patted the shaak's side and, when it remained calm, he climbed up. He held out a hand for Padmé. With a look of surprise, she took it and he pulled her up behind him.

A pleasant jolt ran through Vader's chest when Padmé's arms closed around his waist. He was surrounded by the wildflower scent of her.

Vader didn't have to pretend that he wasn't on fire inside. Because he was, but it was no inferno. For once it didn't hurt.

Padmé's cheek rested against his back and he could feel her calm in the Force.

Vader only knew one truth.

That he hated himself. But he loved Padmé more.


	19. Anakin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Hello there! This chapter is only...three and a half weeks behind schedule. Ohmygod. Work was hell for the entire month of August, and I'm so sorry for the lateness here.
> 
> Lot's of canon dialogue within. George Lucas wrote it, I am just here to play :)

**Chapter 19**

**Anakin**

"And the Jedi rebellion has been foiled…"

Chancellor Palpatine's speech had uneasiness curling in Padmé's gut. Smoke billowed still from the ruin of the Jedi Temple, and here the Senate sat, hanging on every word of the man who had ordered its destruction.

"In order to secure the continuing stability," Palpatine continued, "the Republic will be reorganized into the first  _Galactic Empire_!"

 _No._ Padmé's stomach dropped as all around her the Senate erupted into applause.

"For a safe and secure society!" Palpatine concluded.

Their cheers intensified. It was deafening. Jeering.

The din swallowed up any sound of protest. A wave of motion swept throughout the chamber as Senators rose from their seats.

A standing ovation.

"So this is how liberty dies?" Padmé said with a glance back at her security and fellow Delegation senators. She glared down at Palpatine. "With thunderous applause."

Palpatine raised his arms, accepting the Senate's rapturous cheers as if they were a lover's embrace. Somewhere beneath the noise, he laughed in triumph.

No one seemed to care.

"It is done, then," Mon Mothma said, and for the first time since Padmé had known her, she sounded weary. "The Jedi are gone, and the Republic with them. What we've feared the most has come to pass."

"No." Bail stood. "We cannot allow this to happen. The Senate is still intact. We can still stop this before—"

"Bail," Mon Mothma said. "Listen to them"

The crowd grew louder, chanting Palpatine's name.

Bail sat back in his seat, looking pale. "I can't…"

"Milady, what are we going to do?" Dormé whispered.

"I don't see what can be done," Captain Typho said quietly. "They chose this. They are  _choosing_  this as we speak."

" _Palpatine. Palpatine. Palpatine._ "

His name no longer sounded like a name at all, but rather some diseased, infectious heartbeat powering the frenzy.

"No." Padmé shook her head. "I won't accept that. We cannot give up. Not yet. Not like this."

"Milady, you should leave this place. You could be in danger. You were there at the temple," Typho said. "You helped Jedi escape. What if someone saw you? You heard what the Emperor said—"

"The  _Emperor_?" Dormé hissed, aghast.

"Dormé, he's right," Padmé said reluctantly. "We must call Palpatine what he's become. He seized this power, but we will find a way to seize it back."

Bail spoke up, "Chancellor Palpatine had no right to claim this power in the first place—"

"But he has," Mon Mothma said. "The Senate granted him emergency powers, and the seizure is within his right. This is the galaxy in which we now live."

Padmé felt grim. "It doesn't have to be."

"No," Mon Mothma said. "It does not."

"Where do we begin?" Bail whispered. "The last avenues for change in the Senate are all but closed to us."

Padmé played with the chain of her japor snippet, weighing their options with a heavy heart. "There must be a way to operate within the confines of a dictatorship, one that Palpatine cannot stifle. We must continue the work of the Delegation."

"Chancellor Palpatine already counted the Delegation as an ideological opponent. Emperor Palpatine will regard us as something far more dangerous. It will not be easy," Mon Mothma said.

Padmé let the necklace fall. "It never has been."

Mon Mothma bowed her head in agreement. "Then we will do our work wherever it can be done. Inside of this chamber, and out."

The Senate still cheered as if they would never grow tired.

Bail glanced around the vast, echoing chamber. "We'll need to change minds…"

"We'll need more than that," Padmé said. "We'll need to change hearts."

* * *

It had grown dark. Early night hung above Varykino, shrouding the lake country in blackness dotted with a million tiny stars.

It felt to Padmé as if anything that happened there would be a secret. As if it were a world removed from the Delegation and the Rebel Alliance and the Empire itself.

As if in a dream, she took Vader's outstretched hand and dismounted the shaak, and he caught her waist to help her to the ground. She stepped forward to stop herself before she could touch him, and again she was shaken by his closeness.

Padmé was lost in him, and guilt chewed at her heart.

_I'm supposed to be stronger than this._

But a deeper part of her, one that had gone too long unexplored, spoke up.

_I don't care._

For the first time, Padmé let herself feel it.

"Are you all right?" Vader asked, thumb drawing a reassuring line on her wrist that left her lightheaded. "You're trembling."

"I'm fine," Padmé lied, withdrawing her hand from his grip.

There was a crease between his brows, but he didn't press her.

She knew that frown.

 _I knew you._ The pit in Padmé's stomach deepened.

But even with her creeping suspicions, she could not picture Vader any way other than he was now. Yellow-eyed and too young and full of fear.

A pang of sympathy shot through her heart, mingling with something far stronger in a potent cocktail. An emotion she didn't dare name.

An ache spread through her chest.

As they walked down the portico to the lower level entrance, Artoo rolled to greet them.

Vader passed by him and went inside, but Padmé hesitated. Artoo's radar eye swiveled toward her with a beep of confirmation. A lump rose in her throat.

The time left for ever voicing that feeling was growing thin. The computer was repaired, the ability to send a distress signal within her reach. She could be gone as soon as morning.

Padmé exhaled, suddenly afraid.

Their time was up.

"Is there anything you need?" Vader asked, startling her from her thoughts. "Before you…"

He cut himself off.

"No," Padmé whispered. Her chest tightened, her heartbeat sped.

Vader gave her a nod of acceptance and moved for his cloak in an alcove off the entryway.

Padmé closed her eyes. "Vader."

He turned back to her with an expression of unmasked and utter devotion. It gave her a chill and stole the words from her lips.

Vader stepped closer. "Yes?"

Padmé swallowed. "I want you to co—"

"I wish you didn't have to—" Vader said at the same moment.

He stopped just as she did, echoing her nervous exhale.

"But I do have to," Padmé said. She took a steadying breath. "And I'm going to."

Vader didn't meet her eyes.

Padmé hesitated and cleared her throat. "You didn't change your mind about—?"

Vader shook his head before she could finish and reached out to brush a loose curl from her face. Padmé caught his mechanical hand and held it. His fingers tightened around hers in surprise, a tight, unwavering grip. It loosened, and she linked their fingers.

"I would never do that to you," Vader said.

"You've changed so much…"

The words felt strange as she said them.

Vader bit his lip. "You haven't changed a bit. You're exactly the way I—"

Padmé kissed him.

His mouth yielded beneath hers as he cradled her face in his hands. Padmé broke the kiss and pulled back, and rested her forehead against his. She screwed her eyes shut and found they were wet.

"Padmé," Vader said shakily. "I…"

She pressed her fingers to his lips, silencing him, tracing their shape. If it was her only chance to say it. "I love you."

Vader pulled back, his eyes searching her face in shock. He looked to his feet. "I thought that you had decided that you were going to run."

Did he not understand?

"You were going to escape," Vader said, "and be free of the Empire…"

"I think we both know I won't be free as long as there's an Empire to run from," Padmé said.

She ran her hands down Vader's arms, taking both of his hands in hers. The cold and the warm. The living and the dead.

"I truly, deeply," Padmé's said, "love you. And before I run, I want you to know."

Vader nodded and pulled her closer. Padmé let him, her arms twining around his neck. She laughed when he spun her in a circle and pressed his mouth to hers. Vader set her down, her back meeting the wall.

Padmé's breath hitched when Vader kissed the slope of her neck Again, and again, hands wandering along her waist and back, learning the shape of her. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and she closed her eyes with a sharp breath when he nibbled at her pulse point. Her hands trailed along his spine and tightened against his shoulder blades, when he mouthed the hollow of her ear. Hungry and clumsy and wonderful.

"I love you _…_ " Padmé said, almost startled by the aching, breathy desperation in her voice," _Vader._ "

She drew him into another kiss, but he pulled back with a gasp.

"Wait," Vader said, holding her at arm's length.

Padmé swallowed at his sudden distance, at the cool wall against her back, and realized where she may have gone wrong. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed that you—"

" _You're_  sorry? No. Look at me…" Vader's thumb traced her jawline and Padmé did just that. His eyes flickered to her lips. "It's not you. It could never be you. You are—" Whatever she was, Vader didn't seem to have a word. His eyes went soft and his fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck. "I love you."

Padmé inhaled.

"I've always loved you," Vader murmured to himself more than to her. He shook his head as if to clear it. "But, Padmé, it's…It's my name."

Padmé's heart flew to her throat.

Vader's eyes lit up with silent pleading. "Padmé, please, say my name…"

"But I did. I—" Padmé's eyes grew larger. Because in that instant, she more than knew.

From the moment she'd met his eyes on the bridge of the  _Annihilator,_ some latent part of her had wondered.

The oil-stains on his shuttle's workbench and the way he piloted ships. The way she felt so easy with him, like he were a friend she had never known she was missing. That inextinguishable kindness in him that burned like a low ember. How he'd watched out for her each and every moment since they'd met, never content with helping her no matter how many times he managed to do it. The way that he blushed and stammered and lost control of his words when she was near. And the way he had looked at her necklace.

When Padmé looked up to meet Vader's eyes—

 _Blue_.

Her heart gave a thump of realization.

His eyes were blue.

Padmé's hands flew up to cup Vader's face so she could look at him, really look at him.

Look into his eyes for the first time in eleven years.

And Padmé knew. She'd always known. His name escaped her lips in a near-inaudible whisper. "Anakin?"

Vader crushed her into a kiss. Padmé swallowed it like water after a month of thirst but withdrew again to look into his eyes.

Anakin's eyes.

With a cry, she kissed every inch of his face, from his cheeks to his chin to the tip of his nose.

"Ani, Ani, Ani," was all Padmé could say each time she got a word in. "You're  _Anakin_. You're—"

Padmé pulled him into her arms and held him there with a sigh, her fingers curling possessively into his hair as if at any moment he could be taken from her again. He dropped his lips to the crook of her neck and Padmé closed her eyes, pressing her cheek to his hair and breathing him in.

Vader drew back and cupped her face in his hands.

"You're crying." His thumbs swiped at her tears.

Padmé pressed a kiss into his palm. She tried to smile, but her lip shook instead. "I thought you were dead."

"I know."

She felt herself crumbling.

"You, you're here, you…" Padmé said, her fingers straying from his shoulders to his face, proving he was there with her. Horror set in like illness in her stomach. "You lied to me."

Vader reached for her hand as she broke away, and it felt like tearing off a limb to pull herself away from him. Padmé felt sick.

He spoke to her back, "I have no excuses. Padmé, I'm so sorry, but I couldn't…"

"Why didn't you tell me? I would have helped you," Padmé said, whirling on him as hot tears rose in her throat, "I would've done anything that I could if I knew—"

"You would have tried," Vader said. At least he looked ashamed of himself. "There is no helping me."

Padmé studied him, the bow of his head and the broken way he held himself. "Ani, what did the Emperor do to you?"

Vader shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. "I can't—"

"Anakin—"

"Don't. I'm sorry, I was wrong. It doesn't…It doesn't sound right."

Padmé felt a quiver of horror in her stomach, but respected his wish. "What happened to you?"

"What did you think happened?"

"I thought you were taken back to Tatooine, or by the Federation. I thought you could have been ejected from the fighter, lost in space," Padmé said. "I was barely fourteen. I thought of  _everything,_  a thousand awful ways for you to die—"

"I'm worse," Vader said. "You don't know the power of the Dark Side."

The words hung between them with a cold note of finality.

"Tatooine…" Padmé looked at Vader with new grief. "Oh no. Shmi, she—"

" _No_ ," Vader said harshly.

Padmé stopped, her heart skipping a terrified beat.

"Please," he said more quietly. "I will not talk about that. Anything but that."

"All right," Padmé whispered. "We won't"

But her pulse was still racing.

Vader reached out with more hesitancy than before, and lifted the japor snippet from where it rested against her sternum. "I remember when I gave this to you."

"So do I." Padmé folded her hand around his, hating the way she was shaking. "Thank you for telling me the truth."

She let go.

Vader swallowed, hand curling at his side.

Padmé couldn't quite look at him as she said, "I'm still going to leave—"

"I know," Vader said. "You should, and soon."

"You can stay tonight," Padmé said, "have Sola's room."

Vader tried to meet her eyes. "Thank you."

She didn't look at him. She didn't say anything back.

Vader gave her a long look in parting, and turned away.

Padmé waited for him to ascend the stairs before following, watching him all the while.

He wore the same robes and bore the same scars. Had the same hair and hands and mouth. And an hour ago, he had had a different name.

What was she supposed to call him now?

Padmé felt tears coming on before she could stop them.

 _He lied to me,_ she thought again.

And yet.

_I didn't lie to him._

She watched Vader open Sola's bedroom door in silence.

Padmé spoke before she could stop herself, "I'm glad to have met you, Anakin."

He smiled at her sadly. "I was glad to meet you, too."

Padmé's cheeks hot and wet as he nodded in parting.

Anakin turned to go.

"Wait."

He froze, his hand on the door to Sola's bedroom.

Padmé's heart hammered. "Stay?" Her eyes filled with fresh tears.

Anakin was only still for a moment before his eyes widened in realization.

"Ani, please," Padmé said, "stay with me?"

With a hesitant step, he inched nearer, and she gave him a the smallest nod..

In three quick strides, Anakin closed the distance between them, catching Padmé around her waist and pulling her to his chest. Her arms closed around his neck, fingers tangled in his hair, and their lips met in a desperate, needy kiss.

Padmé's feet left the floor as he stumbled back with her into her room. Over his shoulder, she shut the door.


End file.
